Warrior's Rite
by Aedynne Wren
Summary: A young Legolas struggles to complete the ancient Warrior's Rite, a trial all young warriors must face. But the resulting adventure soon raises far more trouble than he expects; leading him to his first encounters with Orcs, spiders, and finally, men. INC
1. Chapter 1

**Author**: Wren

**Summary**: A young Legolas struggles to complete the ancient Warrior's Rite, a trial all young warriors must face. But the resulting adventure soon raises far more trouble than he expects; leading him to his first encounters with Orcs, spiders, and finally, men.

**Disclaimer**: The following story is completely fictional. Any events similar to those in any other story are completely accidental. The author is in no way affiliated with Tolkien or any of his associates, and therefore has no legal ties or ownership to the original materials upon which this fanfiction is based. Any original characters appearing herein are the sole property of the author, however.

**Author's Notes**: This story has been, at present, 2 years in the works. Originally intended as a quick story that I would for once be able to finish, it has drawn itself out much longer than originally anticipated.

The events of this story take place at a time before Sauron, in the form of the Necromancer, took residence in the south of Mirkwood. Therefore Mirkwood is still called Greenwood, and although darkness is seeping into the Great Wood, true evil has yet to fully take hold.

Also, the disclaimer will only be published here, on the first chapter, though it does apply for all future chapters. 

I do not use a beta-reader, though I strive to check and recheck my own work (often obsessively). Any faults you may find, whether in grammar, spelling, plot, or in my attempts at Sindarin, are therefore my own. If you find any errors, I would of course love to be notified so I can fix them.

**Notes on Legolas**: I have long researched what little there can be found on Legolas, especially that pertaining to his age and family. Unfortunately there is little written on these matters, and so much of it has been left up to scholarly guess. It is generally believed, though, that Legolas was born in the later Second Age, or perhaps as late as the very early Third Age. In comparison with other well-known characters, this puts him close in age with Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, if not somewhat older than them. As to his family, nothing is ever mentioned of his mother, though he certainly must have had one, nor is any mention made of any siblings. Popular theory in analyzing probabilities mostly concerning his roles as sentinel, emissary to the Council of Rivendell, and participation in the Fellowship have leant towards the idea that he is not the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, but a younger child of Thranduil. For every fan of this notion there are those that adamantly oppose it, and so there remains no definitive answer.

While I have been a rapt student in discovering such things, my stories often play with his actual age, particularly in relation to the ages of Elrond's sons. I also alternately choose to have him have siblings, while other times portray him as an only child.

**Notes on Elven Aging**: The approximate equivalent ages of elven children in human years is another subject up for individual interpretation. The little Tolkien provides is that elves physically age much slower than humans, though with greater physical and mental prowess. What he did say was that they reached their adult height by age 50, and full physical maturity by somewhere between 50-100 years.

For the purposes of this story, Legolas appears to be the approximate age of 9 human years. I have decided that, according to my own reckoning, this puts him at 25. I have also decided for this story to have him slightly younger than the twin sons of Elrond.

Reviews are most welcomed!

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A gentle breeze blew through the dense forest, stirring the fallen leaves of seasons long past. Overhead the tall limbs barred much of the sun's light, creating an intimate, shadowy atmosphere that leant the illusion of a hidden world, completely isolated from the influence of the world beyond. Birds chirped contentedly from the plentiful boughs, secure in their private wood, mindless of the figure who had paused far below them to listen to their merry melodies.

The individual was an unusual sight for the few forest's inhabitants who happened to take note, for though clearly an elf by appearances, he seemed far too young to be venturing on his own. Upon his back was slung a small pack with a water skin tied to its side, indicating he was a traveler. Dressed as any elven warrior, in an earthen jerkin of mossy green, and leggings the shade of bark, adorned with a bow and full quiver, as well as a small assortment of knives – he could easily be mistaken for a patrol guard, if not for his markedly smaller stature. His face also told of his limited number of years, and still held all the vestiges of childhood. 

Several of the creatures proclaimed their discovery of the young onlooker to their neighbors, and soon the trees were flooded with a din of curiosity and concern, for each knew of the dangers that could be found within the outlying forests of Mirkwood.

After a few moments Legolas resumed his trek, soundlessly traversing through the endless wood. A small frown marred his cheery countenance as he caught fragments of the tittering chatter. It required a great deal of control to force himself not to add his own comments to the conversation. 

"I am not as young as they think me to be, nor am I unable to mind myself in the wilds," he inwardly argued. "I am a trained warrior, fit as any to contend with whatever perils I may happen upon." Though his anger at the forest beasts belied his attempts at seeming more mature, he felt his reasonings were sound, and his mood quickly brightened. It also occurred to him that in pure numbers of years, he was quite the elder to the nearly any creature he was likely to run across in this wood. 

Only after a series of similar thoughts cycled through his consciousness did he realize the childishness of his aggravation. A pink tinge lit his cheeks as well as the tips of his ears, and he dropped his eyes to the forest floor in a gesture of shame at his own foolishness. With a deep breath, he again raised his gaze, prepared to resume the serious mindset required for his expedition.

"Focus. Concentrate," he recited in a well-versed mantra, mimicking the teachings of his tutors. Immediately his features became hardened with the intensity of his thought; his lips pursing together as his mind was forced to focus its entire capacity on his surroundings. 

_"Expand your senses, my prince; feel the forest, embrace its spirit," _he heard his field mentor, Lawlaeg, urge, as he had on their countless lessons on field excursions. Just as he'd been trained, the young prince concentrated, and was rewarded a few moments later by the exhilarating connection he formed with all the bountiful life around him. 

A proud smile pulled at his lips as he savored the sensations he never tired of feeling. He could feel the life pulsing within the trees; feel the location of each of the tiny animals that made it their home. He could feel the calm strength of Ennor beneath his feet, as well as the brilliant intensity of Anor in the sky. He could hear the soft roar of the turbulent Anduin, several leagues away, and hear the whispered knowledge of the gentle winds that swirled through the trees. 

It had scarcely been a decade since he had mastered the skill of honing his senses so that his was attuned to nature, and several years less that he'd been able to accurately interpret all that he perceived. Though still a feat that required conscious thought, he found it easier to achieve with each passing day. He reasoned that that had been one of the objectives of his mission, along with gaining experience in surviving the vast wilderness. 

With the voices of the natural world humming through his veins, he set out again, following the whims of the breeze. In truth there was not a designated destination for his travels, merely the requirement that he continue moving from day to day - exploring and learning his way around the unfamiliar portions of his father's realm.

After traveling for several minutes, Legolas allowed himself to drift into a meditative state, one that offered him the benefit of being able to travel large distances without tiring. It had not always been an instinctual response, but after years of training, he had succeeded in mastering the unique elven skill, just as he had gained the ability to expand his senses. 

A slight change in the wind's temperature drew him from his trance, causing him to quickly assess his surroundings to the bounds of his sensual reach. Though aware of his locale throughout his journey, he still suffered some disorientation when he left the waking reverie, and required a moment to reassert his position. He immediately noticed the change in the songs of the birds, and sensed an alteration in the activity of the animals. He cast a glance skyward, which confirmed his suspicions. Anor had nearly completed her journey, and was now bidding farewell to the lands of Ennor, before bowing to the silvery reign of Ithil. 

The young prince smiled, inwardly thanking the sun for her company that day. He sighed softly before letting his gaze fall to his surroundings. Reaching out with his heightened senses, he located a small spring a short distance from his position, and began heading for its shores. He took a small drink from his flask and sharply realized how foolish he'd been, for the container was completely dry. 

_"Never allow yourself to run out of water. Food can be scavenged for, and if need be, forgone, but water is a necessity,"_ he heard Lawlaeg advise in his deep, stern tone. Feeling slightly guilty for his inattention, the elfling jogged the distance to the shore more hurriedly than he'd planned. 

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

**Notes on Elvish Names: **

Lawlaeg – "Sharp Ears" (pronounced L-ow-lag)


	2. Chapter 2

The cool water was a welcome refreshment to his parched tongue, and after refilling his flask, the young prince decided to enjoy a bath in the clear brook. He laughed to himself as he sat on the rocky floor, allowing the water to push against him as it struggled to maintain its course. It had been several days since he had last paused to take any prolonged enjoyment from his crusade, and he felt deliciously mischievous about his impromptu stop.

The trees chuckled with amusement as they beheld the antics of their young guest, and the waters themselves joined in their humor, occasionally causing a particularly large gush of water to attack the small body, playfully knocking him over. In the trees around the stream, small creatures watched with interest as the strange being frolicked in the spring, enjoying the spray of waves as they lapped against his body. 

This area was in a remote part of southern Mirkwood, and scarcely saw the presence of its elven neighbors. In fact, the visits of the elves had been so rare that most of the animals had only encountered them a single time during their lifetime, if they had at all. The great trees sensed their intrigue, and hastened to inform them that their small visitor was an elf, as well as a friend of nature, for they were old and well remembered those who had gifted them with speech. 

After relaxing in the shallow creek for some time, the blonde youth became aware of his attentive audience. With a deep breath he closed his eyes, and worked to regain his connection with the many spirits around him. A broad grin spread across his face as he suddenly was able to catch parts of the conversations going on in the treetops. As he listened, he took a moment to thank the Valar for granting his kind this wonderful gift. Still beaming, he quietly observed the trees recounting past experiences with elves, and several birds debating the reason for his current presence. Unable to passively eavesdrop any longer, Legolas let out a shrill whistle, capturing their collective attention. He was rather startled by the intense silence that immediately fell over the forest, for even the winds appeared to cease. He took a deep breath, and in the tongue of the birds, thanked the trees for their kind support. In gratitude for their acceptance of his uninvited presence, he explained that it was only fair that he personally introduce himself to all within the vicinity. 

The animals erupted in excited chatter at their discovery of the ability to communicate with this new creature. Within a few moments, several birds had flown out of the boughs to get closer to this curious being, some choosing to use his shoulders as their perch. Squirrels and chipmunks scurried down the long trunks, coming to rest on the shores of the stream nearest the boy.

Legolas laughed merrily as he observed his new friends, engaging them in conversation about the weather, and eventually telling them about his quest. For nearly an hour they chatted, the creatures telling him all about the area, and he in turn telling them a little about his own home.

Regretfully, he was forced to bid farewell to them so he could continue his bath, as he did not have much time to spare. As they departed, he retrieved his soap from his supplies, and washed the remaining dirt from his skin and hair. Clean for the first time in many days, a very satisfied and refreshed elfling returned to the bank to redress, choosing his spare set of apparel over his well-traveled in clothing he'd been wearing earlier. With a muffled chuckle he assessed the clothes he'd been wearing, and after ascertaining the position of the sun, he decided to camp near the stream that night. This decision allotted him several hours of valuable daylight, with which he first decided to wash his dirt-encrusted garments. 

Once he completed his task, which nearly served as a second bath, the young prince hung his clothes from high branches, along with his bedroll, where fewer animals could access them, and any passers-by would not notice them. He then decided to hunt for a fresh meal, which he'd also been long without.

Almost without thinking, he attached his quiver and silvery long-bladed knives to his back, before slinging his pack over a shoulder, and slipping daggers into his calf-high boots. After assuring everything was in its place, he quickly took inventory of his supply of arrows and carefully inspected his bow, adjusting the fine threads to the correct tautness. It was a system he'd been regularly practicing for over a fortnight - sometimes several times a day – and he knew that it would be one he would not be breaking for some time to come. 

Finally satisfied with his preparations, he set off into the dense foliage, moving so silently that he scarcely stirred the air about his lithe form. No trace of the young hunter was left as he wound his way through the brush, sliding from one sheltered vantage point to another, careful to ensure that his presence went unnoticed. Though his feet left no print, he found it precariously challenging to prevent himself from disturbing the leaves and twigs that adorned the ground – objects which were sure to alert any potential prey to his position.

A deep concentration fell over him as he stretched his senses to their full alertness, stilling his body until even his breathing was imperceptible. A slight smile marred his otherwise stern countenance as he realized the extent he'd improved his stealth since the start of his journey. His moment of pride was cut short, however, as his sharp hearing detected the subtle crunch of leaves some distance from him, jolting his body into readiness as he waited for the noise to materialize into a veritable target.

A few moments of anxious patience rewarded him with a clear view of a magnificent stag unabashedly grazing in the small clearing the trees afforded it. Legolas stared at the mighty creature in awe for a few seconds, watching the graceful movements that caused light to reflect off the tawny pelt like glittering golden armor, illuminating the deep soulful eyes that unhurriedly surveyed the locality. Entirely forgetting his intention to slay the beautiful beast, the young hunter sat mesmerized, breath caught in his throat at the ethereal vision. Unaware of being watched, the buck bent his head to graze, giving his admirer a full view of his equally magnificent pair of antlers, which spanned several feet. A moment later a sound caught the keen ears of the deer and its awestruck predator – the rustle of leaves in a nearby dell, harmlessly stirred by the slight wind - and it snapped its head upright to gaze cautiously in the direction it had come. The abrupt movement caused the elfling to register his whereabouts, and recalling his hunting expedition, he realized that he was mere seconds from losing the opportunity that had so generously presented itself. 

With reflexes too fast for the eye to perceive, he snatched an arrow from his full quiver, notching it into his bow. A moment later he had aligned the shot, and in the same breath, released the arrow with accuracy that spoke of skill far beyond that befitting one of his young age. The stag fell with a pitiful moan - more a strained breath than any vocalic sound - for an arrow protruded from its trachea, and its body lay still and lifeless shortly after meeting the ground. 

Legolas slowly emerged from his crouched position, cautiously approaching the fell creature. As he approached it side, he knew with certainty it was dead, for its eyes were clouded and its chest failed to rise. The young archer drew a shuddering breath, and sank to his knees beside the buck. Still unaccustomed to taking lives, he sorrowfully scanned the corpse with a mixture of guilt and pity, a hesitant hand coming to rest on the pelt that was yet warm. A small portion of relief was awarded him as he noted that his aim had been true, and the creature had not suffered unduly.

Grateful for this small mercy, the small blonde head bowed, eyes closed, and silently thanked the Valar for their clemency. After taking a few moments to assuage his guilt and clear his mind, he slowly opened his eyes to behold his prey. He knew the death had been a necessary one, but he never found it easy to shed life, regardless of the need. Despite the logic of his mind, his heart still weighed heavily with the burden of the responsibility for the deed. Through a trembling voice that strived to appear brave, a prayer was whispered for the departed spirit.

"Thank you, my noble friend, for your sacrifice this day. May the Valar embrace you in their arms, and guard your spirit in its eternal rest."

He was silent for several minutes, paying his respects to the deer, and mourning its passing. Finally, he unsheathed a knife from his back, and set to work harvesting the fresh venison. Once he had as much as he could carry, he removed the impressive rack of antlers from the noble creature's head. He admired them for several minutes, realizing how fortunate he'd been. With a piercing whistle he called to the trees, summoning the largest of the area's hawks.

Moments later, a beautiful bird with honey-color wings descended from the clouds, coming to rest on a branch just above the grim scene. Legolas smiled up at the bird in greeting, and thanked it for its cooperation. He quickly explained what he required of the bird, and after some discussion, which involved assuring the bird of a handsome reward for his hardship, the creature acquiesced. 

The prince grinned appreciatively at the bird as he moved to help it grasp the large cargo, and gave a slight wave of farewell as it took flight seconds later, carrying the rack with it on a long flight to the heart of the Greenwood. Once the hawk had disappeared from sight, he gathered his butchered pieces and stood, immediately making his way back to the tree that still held the remainder of his belongings.

In a relatively short time he found what he had earlier deemed as his campsite for the night, and quickly unburdened himself of the meat and excess gear. From the stream he collected several large stones, and built himself a fire pit. Minutes later he had kindled a fire, and was busy spearing the meat with sticks to cook it. Much of the meat was designated for later use, and thus he prepared it to be cooked and then dried. The remainder he cooked to be tender and moist, for a more pleasurable and immediate consumption.

With the time allowed by the roasting of the meat, he stole away to search for berries. By inquiring of the birds, he was directed to a large bushel of berries, and eagerly took as much as he was able. Arms heavily laden, he returned to monitor his meat, pleased that he'd been so successful. Only after he had feasted on the plentiful meal did he allow himself to feel pride for his masterful kill.

Contented and full, he extinguished the flames, and primed the meat to be dried. He laid the fruit out beside it, so that they too might be saved for travel. By the time he finished his preparations, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the stars were beginning to show themselves. 

Legolas gazed up at the sparkling lights and smiled at their splendor. A song swelled within his chest at the serene sight, and he was loath to stop it as it flowed across his tongue. As far as the sound reach, creatures of all type paused to hear the sweet melody, so beautifully delivered by the high, clear tones of the young voice. 

The song ended with a soft, resounding pitch, which lingered in the peaceful night before gently fading on the breast of the stream's waters. Moments past, magically charged with a silence so potently tranquil that none dared to break it, before, at last, the forest reawakened. Calls of appreciation sounded from all corners of the wood, causing the wood elf to blush at the sudden attention he'd unknowingly drawn.

With a soft sigh he rose to his feet, and began dismantling the ring he'd built, effectively erasing all evidence of his presence. Once finished, he moved his drying morsels into the tree, where he would sleep. He exchanged hushed words with the tree as he worked, thanking it for its generous hospitality in sheltering him for the evening. As he listened to an account of a family of sparrows that had once taken residence in the tree's limbs, a yawn reminded him of the long day he'd had, and he spread his bedroll on a large branch. 

The tree chuckled as it witnessed the fatigue of its young charge, and it dutifully bid the prince goodnight, assuring him that it would stand guard. Legolas smirked at the protective gesture, but was too tired to argue. Instead, he again offered his thanks, and sank into blissful reverie.


	3. Chapter 3

The peaceful rest of the elfling was interrupted by the brilliant hues that heralded the return of Anor, slowly spreading across the velvety night sky, caressing the slumbering Ennor into wakefulness with a mystical array of colorful splendor. He smiled sleepily as he gazed around him, grateful for the vantage point which allotted him a spectacular view of the sparkling dew-covered forest and the rainbow-tinted waters of the lively stream.

"Good morning," he greeted the green-limbed giant that had sheltered him, stifling a yawn as his senses sought to fully awaken. 

The tree chuckled beneath him, its branches swaying at the slight tremor it caused. With a deep, rich voice it returned his greeting, an amused rumble still reverberating deep within its trunk.

Legolas grinned sheepishly; feeling strangely embarrassed that the ancient being found him humorous. "I did rest well, thank you," he replied softly in answer to its genial inquiry. "I hope that I was not too troublesome a burden," he added politely, his head bowed so that his long tresses might hide his scarlet cheeks. 

The tree laughed harder in response, its roots now visibly trembling with mirth. When it had composed itself, it assured the golden prince that he had been no trouble, and that his presence had been a welcome companion. 

Still blushing furiously, the elfling managed a gracious response before excusing himself to the streambed - a bashful smile accompanying him as the tree fell prey to another round of laughter.

At the water's edge he stripped of his clothing, and quickly submerged himself in the brisk waters, enjoying the jolt the icy water provided his sluggish senses. He paused to enjoy the sensation of the rolling current, before finally settling down to wash himself. Minutes later he emerged onto the bank, quickly dressing to warm his cooled flesh.

His composure regained, he decided to return to the bush he'd been shown the day prior that he might breakfast on fresh fruit. Birds sung joyful tunes, welcoming the new day, as he sauntered through the wood, feeling as carefree as he could remember. His mind drifted to his mission, and a grin stole across his features as he thought of the prize antlers he had sent back in completion of one of his tasks.

He imagined the look of surprise on his father's face when the hawk arrived, carrying with it the enormous rack, followed soon after by pride at the realization that it had been his son who had slain the great creature. He knew his was easily the most impressive of all the reported hunts in recent years, and felt a surge of delight at that knowledge. He had sworn that he would not only succeed in his mission, but excel to a level befitting a prince, just as his father expected him to. Thus far, he was making wonderful progress, and he couldn't have been more pleased. 

After gathering a generous amount of berries - mindful not to deplete the plant's supply too greatly, for other creatures also depended on its produce - he headed back to his camp. As he walked, his mood sombered: thoughts of home triggering buried feelings of loneliness and a stinging desire to return. 

A single tear shown in the corner of his eye, and he defiantly wiped it away, refusing to succumb to the feelings of weakness that were seizing him. 

_"You are stronger than tears, Legolas," the sharp tone of his father scolded in his ear. _Through the eye of his memory, he could see the dispassionate glaze of his father's icy stare boring into him as the king stood stiffly before him, a look of disgust coloring his features when they elected to display an expression. _"No son of mine will be diminished to such a show of frailty. I will not stand for disgraceful behavior, of ANY kind, and this pitiful display is far too demeaning to even be acknowledged! I had thought you able to rise to the standard expected of a prince, but I see this may have been somewhat of a misconception," the barking tone rebuked, further degrading him._

Legolas felt his heart freeze within his chest as the hurtful words tore through him once more, equally as potent through recollection as they had been when first administered. The tears that had been hiding began to well in his eyes as he valiantly fought to halt their formation. It was moments such as this that his resentment for his father's callous treatment of him burgeoned, incensing his blood till it nearly boiled. It was only the truth of his words that had ever held the young prince's ill-contained rage in check - the knowledge that he was merely being held to the expectations of a grown warrior, and the prince of a mighty nation. Despite how much the words tore at him, and how much his ire flared, he also knew that as the son of king, more rigid standards were expected of him than the average citizen. 

A pang of shameful guilt quelled in his breast as he ceded; his father, as usual, was correct, and he should not be allowing such vulnerability to manifest. Just as he had the first time the words had been spoken, and indeed, every time that their equivalent were spoken, he raised his head high, squared his shoulders, and refused the tears passage. 

He saw in his mind the arched brow of his father, and the nearly imperceptible nod he gave for the effort, assuring the young prince, with as much affirmation as he ever offered, that his response had been the correct one. In some way, Legolas knew that his father approved, and was even a little proud of his youngest progeny, loathe as he was to voice such feelings.

Pushing thoughts of home and family out of his immediate consideration, he forced himself to return to his campsite, knowing the time for his departure grew near. He munched on the berries as he walked, arriving within minutes. After a quick scan of the area, which confirmed that nothing had been disturbed, he chose to sit by the water's edge to enjoy his final few moments of rest before he was forced to resume his travels.

Legs swaying idly from his perch on a large rock, he gazed into the tireless waters, lost in thought. A few birds flew down to investigate his silent behavior; finally succeeding in coaxing him out of his trance to assure them that he was merely troubled by persistent memories. Many of the birds chirped in understanding, identifying with his unquiet disposition. To distract him from such thoughts, they told him tales of each of their adventures, succeeding in warming his mood.

As the sun approached its peak, Legolas conceded that the time had come for him to depart. Returned to his normal state of cheerfulness, he thanked the birds for their kind efforts, as well as their entertaining stories. After taking his leave of them, he scaled the tree, and began packing his belongings. The tree conversed with him briefly as he worked, allowing him to again thank it for its gracious reception. 

Shortly before the noon hour he left the friendly glade, following the course of the sun to the western-most edge of Mirkwood. He felt refreshed, as he had that morning, and was comforted to have with him a clean change of clothes, as well as an ample supply of dried berries and meat to accompany his usual regimen of lembas.

He continued without pause throughout the reign of Anor, making excellent progress as he was able to maintain a consistently brisk pace due to his sound slumber the previous night. Around him, the forest grew denser and more shadowed, the calls of birds less frequent. An alarming chill raced down his spine as he became aware of the changes in his surroundings. He slowed to a cautious walk as he called on his heightened senses to alert him to any potential dangers. Despite its foreboding appearance, the forest seemed free of hazard - merely darker and lonelier than its northerly counterpart. 

Legolas knew that the southern reaches of his beloved forest were infested with malicious spiders known to prey on intruders into their territory, especially those that were small in stature and completely alone. He also knew that he was well within their borders. His gut clenched in trepidation at the realization, and it took considerable effort to contain his unease. He had learned that spiders could smell fear, and that it often drew them like magnets – he merely hoped he was skilled enough at masking his emotions to pass unnoticed.

The young prince dared not rest that night, and instead pushed himself to continue all through the hours of Ithil's soft rays, which were skewed by the eerie woods to appear as a haunting haze of silvery glow, amplifying its menacing nature. Dawn brought little relief to the chilling air of hostility that assaulted his senses, although it did marginally improve his visibility.

With each passing hour he eagerly anticipated the forest's end ever more, until he could scarcely tolerate the constant sense of unease that hung about it. He ate as he walked, not wanting to stop, and silently cursed the ominous woods that continued endlessly before him.

Hours passed without incident, the time seeming to extend into an indefinite series of monotonous paces - each second as unnerving and wearisome as those that preceded it. A glance at the sky told the golden-maned elfling that the day's light had passed its median, and the hours of its minute comfort were waning.

Eventually the young hunter realized a strange prickling sensation on the back of his neck, causing a wave of nervous energy to flood his veins. 

Orcs. 

The idea struck him with enormous clarity, his gut immediately throbbing with a sickening sense of dread. Equally chilling was how confidant he was that this perception was correct - so much so that it worried him to realize he had never bothered to question the potential validity of the notion. Never in his short life had he come across one of the fowl dark creatures, and yet from a source so deep within himself he could not conceive of doubting it, he knew them at once. They were the mortal enemy of his people, an unnatural abomination that repulsed the very earth upon which they trod. It seemed to him that his very blood could sense their presence, and recoiled in revulsion.

A foul taste in his mouth, he flung himself into the trees, flitting to the highest boughs in scant seconds. There he sat motionless, attempting to locate the offending creatures. Within moments his sensitive nose caught wind of their telltale stench, recognizable even to him, who had never encountered one before. As he waited, he discerned the loud clomping of their heavy steps, soon picking up muffled snarls and grumbles he assumed to be part of their Black Tongue. 

With all of his might he forced his body to remain steady and calm, despite the jitters that raged through his system, threatening to seize control of his motor functions at any moment. He focused on his breathing, knowing that it controlled a large portion of his mind-blocking nervous impulses. He could scarcely think of what to do, innate fears washing over him and paralyzing him where he sat, his hands desperately gripping the mighty bough upon which he was perched. He tried to convince himself that the horde of beastly creatures would simply pass by, not noticing the lone figure still some ways off from them. 

A slightly more rational part of him worried for other reasons. He knew he had strayed into a less friendly portion of the forest. What if there were more than just Orcs here?

As if waiting for this harrowing thought to cross his mind, a faint, but unmistakable clicking sound reverberated off from the wood beneath his gasp. The elf's eyes widened to saucers of oceanic proportions as he very slowly turned his gaze, dreading what could only be the worse possible outcome. 

Painfully aware of his unidentified stalker, the young blonde convinced himself to continue as if he were ignorant of the knowledge, hoping the observer would merely turn away or be unable to find him if he made absolutely no noise at all.

To his dismay, the onlooker did not deter, but instead elected to steadily move closer, the clicks growing louder and louder. Legolas felt his eyes bulge with fear, his instincts screaming at him to flee with all possible haste, while his senses registered the ill intentions of his predator. His forehead creased with worry as he scoured his brain for possible options, his mind flitting back to the host of Orcs who seemed to have also drawn nearer.

As though it were a palpable substance, Legolas felt the color drain from his face when the first Orc entered his view. It had its head cocked at an odd angle, and seemed to be glancing tentatively at the upper branches.

Legolas' mind went utterly blank. No thoughts registered for several moments, and the next thing he knew, he was bounding through the treetops at a dangerous pace, not entirely sure how he was even managing to find purchase on the branches as he flew through them.

"Run, aye, brilliant choice! You know to never flee; it draws the attention of the hunter! Ai, but I am a fool!" he berated himself, angered by his fearful response, and poorly considered decision. "A moving target is easier to see, and a scared target is easy to capture!"

_"Fear will be met with death, only a calm mind will see your deliverance,"_ the words of his instructor echoed through his conscious. Further thought was interrupted, however, as a chilling screech erupted from within the shrouded glade just behind him. Legolas felt himself cringe in horror, his lungs constricting for a moment, as if not breathing would make him invisible to the stares he knew he received. 

A second howl to his right alerted him to his need for action, and impulsively his legs began to move faster, carrying him as fast as they could from the unseen pursuers. As he fled, he knew his efforts were in vain, for the Orcs were fast and had the advantage of numbers. 

Behind him he heard the unmistakable pounding of a great number of iron-clad feet racing to catch up with him. An icy curtain of dread fell upon him as he subconsciously counted at least nine bodies pursuing him, rapidly closing any distance he had achieved between them. Two orcs were now visible below him, their glowing red eyes unmistakably fixed on his location. Whispering a prayer to the Valar, he concluded that his best chance for survival was to attempt to slay as many of the beasts as he could without losing too much ground.

In a fluid motion that was nearly effortless, he drew his bow and notched an arrow, his pace remaining unchanged. Honing his senses on the Orcs below him, he continued his flight as he waited for one to come near enough to be within range. He only had to wait a few moments before two of the simultaneously swerved into his sight, one letting loose its own arrow, which landed in a branch precariously close to his foot. 

Surprised by attack, Legolas lost a valuable moment in deciding which creature to fire upon first. The fowl creatures took the anticipated opportunity to attack in unison, each shooting an arrow at the fleeing boy, eliminating the elf's chance to contemplate the situation. 

_ "When under attack, you do not have time to think. Any pause will be interpreted as hesitation, and the enemy thrives on indecision. He will take any opportunity you grant him, and use it against you. Do not give him the chance. Act quickly, and with purpose; never waste a shot, and never miss an opening,"_ the voice of Lawlaeg scolded him angrily. Inside his mind, he could picture the stern teacher, with his piercing gaze and firm tone, pacing before the youth as he tried to impress upon him the importance of his words. Years of repetitive lessons, all with the same message, surfaced unbidden in the elfling's memory, shaming him in his moment of failure, while a small voice declared that he would pay for the unheeded teaching with his life. 

He gulped as a volley of arrows were launched at him. At the last second he remembered his own bow, and released the arrow into one of the creatures, hitting it squarely between its eyes. The lifeless body continued to stumble to the ground, though it was almost instantaneously replaced by two of its companions, who were racing along struggling to hold the child in the sites of their own bows. Legolas dodged this way and that as two and three arrows at a time whizzed passed him. His luck could not hold forever, and soon he felt the piercing bite of one of the arrows across the outside of his thigh. Though not severe, the injury had the effect of startling him, causing him to falter slightly. His next leap fell short, and in horror he found himself plummeting towards four snarling Orc faces. Using every skill he had, he maneuvered himself to land gracefully on a thin branch, some five feet above the Orcs. Not taking the time to rejoice in the halt of his fall, he flew back to the higher altitudes and continued to attempt to elude the warriors. 

Managing to notch an arrow as he flew through the branches, he hastily aimed again at the creatures below him. To his surprise, his arrow landed true to its mark in the side of the beast's neck, and with a strangled cry it too fell to the ground.

Legolas did not have time to retrieve a second arrow, however, for just as he saw his own arrow fell the Orc, a horrible ripping sensation tore through his right arm. The elf shrieked in agony, experiencing pain worse than he'd ever imagined. Glancing at the source of his pain he saw an arrow completely penetrating his arm just above below the elbow, the shaft firmly embedded in the limb. Fearing that things were only going to continue getting worse, and now uncertain if he could even use his bow, he reached back with his good arm to retrieve one of the knives strapped to his back.

The shiny metal gleamed in the poor lighting, the blade singing softly as it was unsheathed. The small noise was the Orc's only warning, before branches of all sizes began falling on them. Only afterwards did Legolas realize that this action merely served to further mark his position for the Orcs, but at the time, it did seem to scatter them somewhat. 

His momentary relief was cut short when a new volley of arrows surrounded him, with one sharp tip finding purchase in his ankle. With even more of a jolt than before his steps faltered, and he scarcely had time to react before seeing the ground rush at his head. An Orc stood below him, watching his descent with an evil grin, its blade high in the air in anticipation. Legolas surprised him though, for though he could not stop his own fall this time, his knife remained clasped in the grip of his left hand. With lightning speed, the blade was plunged into the neck of the still grinning Orc before the creature had time to lower its own oily weapon. Miraculously, Legolas was able to flip himself, and although less gracefully than he would have liked, he landed more or less on his feet. Blood spurted from the wound in the Orc's neck, drenching the elf's side. Disgusted, the blonde paid it no further mind as he darted away from the body that moaned as it drew its final breaths. 

In the scant moments he had fought the Orc, a third had soundlessly crept up to him. As he regained his footing, the new assailant lunged at him, bellowing loudly as it aimed its blade for his throat. On impulse, the young archer whirled out of its path, crouching beneath its arc to slash into its stomach with his already bloodied knife. Howling in pain from the violent blow, the creature doubled over, sending it crashing down upon the knife-wielding elfling. 

Filled with a fiery rage, the beast lashed out at him, despite still being impaled upon the elf's blade. With a yelp the blonde ducked out of the way, averting much of the attack, though the glistening tip of the blade still found purchase upon his shoulder, grazing the bone as it narrowly missed its target. The creature's armored fists, impacted his chest, bruising ribs and slicing flesh as the Orc furiously struggled with the knife, still deeply embedded within his torso.

Mustering a surge of strength, the young hunter twisted the blade and thrust upward, killing the creature as it made to strike once more. Frantically he pulled himself from under the smelly beast, momentarily noticing the coats of blood that now covered most of his body. Giving his appearance no further consideration, he quickly cast a glance around him, concurrently scanning the vicinity with his other senses for additional nearby creatures.

Without command, his feet recommenced their plight, although the elf remained focused on the wood to his rear, waiting for the other Orcs he knew were there to show themselves. A chorus of howls and shrieks exploded in the dense foliage, offering him a chance to pinpoint the group's location. Ignoring the arrow that still jutted out from his right forearm, Legolas fitted another arrow onto his bow. To his left a single Orc bounded out of the brush with a menacing growl, immediately falling to the ground with an arrow to its jugular. An echoing snarl announced the second Orc's appearance, closely followed by three more. 

Not daring to stop running, Legolas rapidly fired arrows at the pursuers, ably slaying them with his deadly accuracy. Unfortunately his quiver was not filled with an endless quantity of arrows, and as his supply depleted, he knew he could only buy himself a small amount of time before he was overwhelmed. His breathing became rapid as he felt his heart frantically pounding in his chest, terrified of the numbers he knew to still be behind him. Putting his bow away for a moment, he once again leapt to the safer position of the branches, his small form a blur of movement too fast for the Orcs to catch before he was out of reach.

A shrill squeal caused him to jump, his feet stumbling in their step. Rapid clicking noises erupted from all around him, bringing the previously desolate trees to life with a chorus of sharp answering calls. The Orcs too seemed to recognize the monstrous noises, and halted their pursuit in favor of snarling at the unseen foes. 

The elfling swallowed forcefully as he listened to the engulfing mass close in on him. He closed his eyes and spared a brief moment to ask the Valar for mercy, before breaking into a blind run fueled entirely by multiple days' accrued adrenaline. The wind whipped through his long hair as he raced through the dense maze of trees, uncertain of his destination, yet desperately hoping he was headed for the forest border. 

"It is in the Valar's care," his mind whispered to him, denying him any unfounded words of reassurance, for it knew it to be futile to lie, even for his own momentary comfort. In spite of the comprehension that he would not make it, his survival instincts forced him to expend the effort. 

His heart pounded in his chest, mimicking the rapid gait of his feet as he pushed himself to faster speeds. As he continued, the deafening pulse of his blood was accompanied by the rasping sound of his breathing, his lungs forced to fight to supply oxygen to a body that was burning it up faster that it could be acquired. Behind him he heard the rapidly approaching taps of thousands of feet scurrying through the trees in pursuit, gaining on him even as he strained to sprint faster. All thoughts of the Orc party were forgotten in the face of this equally fearsome foe.

All around him he could feel the flittering beasts closing in, enjoying the excitement of hunting down their most recent prey. Ominous hissing noises soon reached his ears as the creatures anticipated the end of his flight, some scurrying ahead to lay traps of webbing in his path. He frantically dodged their efforts, but felt the pressure they were putting on him as they limited his escape route. The trees would have been his normal route of escape, but they were too heavily utilized by the spiders to offer him any assistance. Instead, he dropped to the forest floor and continued his frenzied pace. A feeling of terror gripped his chest like a steel hand, squeezing and crushing his nearly exhausted organs. 

A chilling thought swam to the fore of his consciousness – he would not make it. The realization struck him with a force large enough to knock him over, were he not flying with all the speed he possibly could. Images of his family flashed through his mind - his father, brothers, and the friends he would leave behind. In the brief moments he had to contemplate such things, he wondered how they would deal with the news of his demise. Would they feel shamed by his failure? Would they be disappointed?

The impact of a large object struck him suddenly, drawing him from the recesses of his internal speculations. Instinctively his body struggled to free itself from whatever had latched onto his back. He knew instantly that it had been a spider, and vigorously shook to dislodge it, unable to see much of it due to its position on his mid-back. After swatting at it several times, he succeeded in unseating the foul creature, only to have another launch itself at his feet. 

Another landed on his shoulder, slicing his cheek with its sharp talons. As the blood pooled in the wound, the spiders squealed with renewed vigor, several more making their own attempts at attaching themselves to the small elfling. Legolas struggled to avert their poisonous fangs, knowing that his fight was over should any of them succeed in biting him. 

His progress was considerably slowed with the added concern of having a number of the creatures clinging to him, but he still managed to push forward. From the trees around him, the remaining horde cheered on their comrades with piercing shrieks as they worked to bring him down. 

No longer watching where he was going, the young hunter was caught completely unaware by a small bush that blocked his path. Unceremoniously, the blonde tumbled over the obstruction, rolling down the hill it shielded with the spiders still attached to his form. He fell quite some distance before he managed to regain some control over his movement, eventually succeeding in steering his decent around the multiple trees that sprouted from the decline. Many of the beasts were crushed as they were caught between his body and the various rocks that littered the hillside, while others lost their grips and fell away.

Winded and badly bruised, the golden archer was relatively relieved when he at last reached the bottom of the steep knoll. Badly in need of a moment's rest, he was denied this by the persistent hissing at his back, indicating that his assailants were still in pursuit. With a ragged breath that served to stifle the scream of pain that resulted from his movements, he took off again, uncaring of where he was headed, or the agonizing protest of his battered limbs. 

The forest rapidly thinned around him, and for the first time he considered that he might possibly escape. He refused to entertain the notion, however, and chose to focus on the immediate situation, which was anything but promising. Another round of spiders caught up with him, and at once launched themselves at his fleeing form. He nearly stumbled under the force of their impact, but even as he beat them off of himself, he managed to stay upright and keep moving.

A few paces later he again tripped and fell to the ground, tumbling through a row of thorny brush. It was a small comfort, though, thathe was not subject to another stony slope. Instead he felt the sharp sting of being stabbed as he landed on the other side, as well as the intense anguish of flames licking at his flesh. Yelping in surprise, the young prince jumped from his prone position, realizing with horror that his pack was on fire. He struggled to tear the offending article from his person and flung it away. He then threw himself on the ground and rolled around to extinguish the small flames that had caught his cloak and were burning their way to his skin.

Only when the pressing danger of the fire had passed did he take the opportunity to register his surroundings. Springing to his feet, he immediately regretted the decision, finally noting the strange blade that now protruded from his lower leg. More gingerly standing on his feet, he cautiously regarded the area. Apparently he had stumbled directly into an encampment, which was perched at the edge of the wood, for around him stood several startled men, staring agape at their intruder. Many had risen to their feet to gaze at him, while others cautiously approached where he stood.

Legolas continued to catch rasping breaths as he surveyed the site, feeling extremely vulnerable and unsure of their reaction to his presence. Though perhaps not in the most objective frame of mind at the time, everything about this group seemed foreign to him: their weapons, their tools, the unpleasantly pungent odor surrounding them, their bizarrely rounded ears... His eyes grew wide as he looked at them with sudden recognition. _Edain. _

Still frozen in placeobserving them, his limbs poised to flee at the slightest provocation, he listened totheir mumbled words and the guttural grunts being exchanged, unable to understandwhat was being said, ashe was unfamiliar with their language. The approaching men were now just outside an arm's reach of him, and the elfling was not certain their intentions were just. Panic began to surge anew through his worn body, and he was about to flee from the precarious situation when he felt a tiny piercing bite on his shoulder as two small fangs dug into his flesh.


	4. Chapter 4

The poison of the spiders was designed to stun its prey, inducing a brief lapse in consciousness that served to render them immobile while the paralyzing toxins took effect. As an elfling growing up in a land that was infested with the vile beasts, Legolas knew all the properties of the poison and its effects. He also knew that time was the only antidote. It was with this knowledge that he reawakened a few minutes later, surrounded by a ring of slovenly men, all peering down at him in a collective mixture of intrigue and concern. 

He discerned that he had been turned onto his back from the feel of the ground beneath him, and a low moan escaped his lips as he felt the pressure of a rock jutting into his hipbone. Knowledge was not experience, as he immediately discovered, for he soon became frighteningly aware that he could not stir any of his limbs. 

A few of the men began chattering as they noted his renewed wakefulness, and soon the entire group was engaged in their discussion, often gesturing at him as their words flew rapidly between them. 

"It's an elf!" many exclaimed. "I've never before seen one!"

"Ah, but he's so small. And what is he doing out here?" others wondered.

"Are we near to any elf villages?"

"He certainly is well armed!"

"How can you be certain it's a 'he'? Surely a creature of that beauty is a female!" one argued, followed by grunts of agreement from many of the others. 

"No you fools, he's a boy. Look at him! No females carry weapons! And he's dressed in hunter's clothes! Besides they all look rather female, so looks don't mean so much when you're talking about elves," another man replied with a sneer.

"I reckon their females are quite nice to look at though," several snickered, rousing chuckles out of most of the group.

The frozen elfling frowned in apprehension as his gaze darted around the human ring, following the somewhat hushed debate. He felt a rush of frustration color his cheeks, forcing a muttered growl from his throat as he failed to understand any of what they were saying.

After a few minutes the group appeared to come to a consensus, and one man slowly crept forward to crouch by the elf's side. He gazed at the unmoving child with a hint of awe, blatant curiosity shining unshielded at the relatively mystical creature that lay before him. A flicker of uncertainty flashed over his features as he drew nearer, and for a moment his dark eyes reflected the wary reservations he inwardly held concerning his actions.

A whimper escaped the captive hunters' lips as he perceived the vacillation, immediately fearing whatever unfavorable fate was intended him. Instinctively he moved to shy away from the man as he peered closer, but was unable to extend the action beyond his features.

The human saw the young elf wince at his nearness, and felt a strange pity for him. He hated to see the frightful terror glistening in the brilliant blue orbs that stared at him unblinkingly. All the same, he knew he could not allow his emotions to become involved, and sought to steel himself against their nefarious influence.

"I am not here to harm you, young one," he assured in a soothing tone, settling himself a hair's breadth from the elfling's arm. Wide fearful eyes regarded him, a slight tremble racking the previously still form, though the child made no move to respond. "You have been bitten by a spider, and I fear you must suffer the course of its paralyzing venom. Can you speak?" He patiently regarded the terrified youth, who let out a second meek whimper, but seemed to calm slightly, his tremors ceasing. Despite his reaction, the blonde form made no attempt at responding, and showed no sign of comprehension. 

After several expectant moments of silence, the man let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and turned his head away, inclining it forward. His wavy brown hair cascaded over his shoulders, tickling the bristle on his chin. 

The remaining men had been standing as stone in a surrounding circle, scarcely daring to breath themselves. They observed the reaction of their leader, and waited to hear what he would deduce. Whispers mingled their way around the ring as the men contemplated the course of actions they should take, exchanging their feelings regarding their charge. Elves were a thing of rarity amongst humans, and each was filled with an overwhelming sensation of wonder as they examined the young specimen.

Legolas squirmed as best as he was able, his anxiety flooding back with a pang of humiliation as he was unabashedly studied by twelve sets of eyes. Unable to move from their gazes, he averted his own eyes; that he might not have to see the expressions that played across the face of each. His efforts brought him only a marginal amount of comfort, however, for he could still feel their continued stares upon his body.

The man at his side released another long breath, and regarded him again, seeming to have reached a decision. "Tell me child, can you understand me?" he asked, searching the blazing azure seas for an inkling of understanding.

The elf stared back at him as before, making no sound, save his own accelerated breathing. After several moments, the man found he could bear the steady gaze no longer, and tore his eyes away. He found it strange that he, a man who could stare an enemy to its death unflinchingly, could not withstand the innocent gaze of a frightened child. 

"Elf," his mind corrected him, but he was not certain that the difference in their races was the sole basis for his dilemma. It was most definitely a factor, though he conceded upon further reflection that it was only indirectly responsible. 

It was his eyes.

The endless layers of emotions that danced within the twin pools, each as vibrant as any clear sky he had ever witnessed. It was the soul of the being before him, so plainly displayed, that shook him from his resolve. It seemed to the man that a voice had spoken to him in silence, penetrating all that he had erected around himself, to reveal the very core of his being. In those scant seconds he had been absorbed in the intense gaze, virtually transported into the mind of the child, he realized age and wisdom unnatural to one so youthful in appearance. 

The depth of the experience overwhelmed his senses, sending them reeling as his mind struggled vainly to decipher what had transpired. He was certain that he did not merely observe the trepidation and distrust of the elf - he'd felt it. He'd embraced it as his own until his heart beat in his chest with a fervor, pumping adrenaline into his veins as his mind fought to think past the one clear thought it could form: run. 

Minutes passed unheeded as the man struggled to compose himself, his men looking on in quiet confusion, each wondering what had stricken him, yet not daring to inquire directly. Finally he raised his head and glanced at the motionless body, his face an unreadable mask of a torrent of emotions. He silently regarded the slight frame, for the first time bothering to truly study it. 

The first characteristic he noticed, after carefully averting his gaze from the child's eyes, were his ears, with their unmistakably pointed tip. Impulsively he reached out a grimy hand to gently touch the distinctive point, drawing a wince from the elf as it started at the sudden contact. The elfling's hair, though dirtied from his subsequent falls, was a glittering shade of gold, and to the touch mirrored the finest spun silk. It was long and straight, arranged about the child's head in an intricate array of braids. 

Although the elf appeared female by their own standards, the man derived the impression that he was in fact male, if only on account of his significant collection of weaponry. "You must be quite the warrior," he commented, pausing to admire the fine craftsmanship of the pieces. Following his inspection, the instruments were passed amongst the other men, who were eager to behold the elven articles.

_"Le beriatha nin?"_ (You will help me?) a tiny voice inquired, the foreign words gliding over the speaker's tongue in a melodious caress of liquid satin. Wide, pleading eyes regarded the man beside him, silently beseeching him to assuage his fears and offer mercy.

The men froze at the strangely mesmerizing words, each suddenly uncertain if what they'd heard was truly a language, or some type of mystical song. Following the silence that prevailed, a chorus of whispers broke out around the circle of flabbergasted travelers.

The leader allowed them several minutes before holding up his hand, effectively halting the fervent conversations. A kind smile broke out over his features as he leaned in closer to the prone elfling. "I see that you can at least speak, little one, though I regret that we cannot understand your magnificent tongue. Have you any fluency in Westron, the Common Tongue?"

Legolas pursed his lips together as he strained to discern anything the man had said, racking his memory for any vestiges of this language he might have absorbed over the years. Unfortunately, the Woodland Kingdom was highly secluded from the outside world, and rarely saw visitors from other lands. Even other elven realms seldom sent representatives, and if they did, all business was conducted in the Sindar tongue. King Thranduil, in the pattern of mighty Thingol, had long ago declared that any languages other than the Noble Tongue were forbidden within Greenwood's borders; therefore any dealings with the _gwaith palanguiol_ (Outsiders – Afar-living people) were held outside the boundaries of the wood.

For these reasons, the prince, who had never before ventured beyond his father's realm, had very little experience with other languages, including the Common Tongue. A frown pulled at his lips and a crease of frustration worried his brow as the human continued to stare at him. In his realm, elflings did not begin to learn other languages until they had completed their warrior training. The blonde cursed his misfortune, for his current task was the final step in doing just that. 

"_Edavin, ú-erin henia le. U-bedin lam lín,_" (Forgive me, I cannot understand you. I do not speak your tongue.) he apologized in a meek voice that subtly wavered, hoping he would not anger the men whom he was powerless to defend against. 

As his words wafted through the still air, gentle as the tranquil waters in a hidden pool, the men sighed in contentment; a curious feeling of comfort washing over. It seemed to them that serenity had woven its way into the deepest chasms of their inner selves, extinguishing the memories of any trouble they had ever experienced. 

"If speech to you is as music to us, I fear I would weep to my death to hear your kind sing," the man breathed softly, some time later. His comment served to awaken the men from their stupor, and immediately they began to once again question what should be done with the elf child. 

"Sir," one man acknowledged, stepping out from the encircling bodies to approach his leader. He was shorter than the crouching man, though he currently towered over him, with a significantly stockier build. Unruly dark ringlets hung about his shoulders, many having escaped the clasp that served to bind them from their obstructive nature.

"Yes?" came the absent response, as slowly the captain tore his gaze from the elfling to greet his second in command. He suppressed a smirk as his eyes came to rest upon his comrade; a slight glint in the chocolaty pools letting the man know he'd already deduced what was about to be asked. At the same time, however, he was relatively surprised at the duration of patience his men had displayed, for they rarely waited so long before demanding direction.

"The men would like to know what is to be done with the elf," the second man relayed, his even tone effectively blanketing any interest he himself might have held on the matter. The group was a conglomeration of toughened men, with each member solid and fearsome in their own right. They were all well seasoned in life in the wilds, and hardened to the trials of life. "They also question whether our proximity to the woods puts us at risk of attack from the spiders."

The captain gave a slight grunt, and thoughtfully scanned the body before him. His eyes fixed in alarm on the boy's lower leg, where a jagged gash lead to a deep wound from which the knife still protruded, triggering a slow, steady stream of blood. "I believe our first objective should be attending to his injuries," he concluded, suddenly remembering the elf's tumble through the fire pit and subsequent spider bite.

He glanced up at the blonde's face, where wide eyes still regarded him with ill-concealed trepidation. "It may ease his fears to move him farther from the trees," he speculated, glancing up. His eyes locked on four men directly in front of him, and without a word, they moved forward to attempt the precarious relocation. 

Seeming to suddenly remember the second part of his lieutenant's inquiry, he turned to face the woods with an unsettled frown upon his lips. The camp had been erected some dozen meters from the forest edge, which now appeared all the more menacing for the dark shadows and dim light cast by the fading sun. "I don't believe we are in any danger from the beasts. I have never heard of them leaving their shelter to seek prey, and we are sufficiently far enough away that they certainly would be forced to, should they foolishly decide to engage us."

His proclamation served to mollify the worries of the men, and all but those four actively assisting began to gradually drift back to their earlier activities.

From one side of the circle, a fifth man stepped forward, peering down with renewed interest at what had just been designated as his patient. He was leaner than most of the others in the party, and slightly smaller in stature. His hair was a rich mahogany, though long overdue for a wash, and was loosely tied behind his head in a long ponytail. "Take care not to aggravate his injuries," the healer warned sharply, attempting to gage the severity of the wounds from a distance. He winced slightly as the men lifted the body, unintentionally jerking it upward as they overestimated the weight of the small being. 

The elfling whimpered at the abrupt motion, though it could not be deduced whether he'd done so out of pain or fright.

"He weighs as little as a moth," one man supporting him commented, amazed at the peculiar mass of the body in his arms. 

The others grunted in concurrence, each equally astounded by the finding.

"Come, lie him over here," the healer directed once they had adjusted for this surprising discovery, leading the group to an area just outside the camp, opposite the forest. He hastily grabbed a pack sitting nearby and began pulling out blankets and supplies. A few others came over to join them. The healer immediately set them to work spreading the blankets over the ground, building a second small fire, and fetching water to be boiled.

Once a suitable surface had been prepared, Legolas was laid upon his back. The men who had carried him gave him a last look before silently taking their leave to join the rest of their companions. Much to his displeasure, the young elf was forced to remain where he had been placed, straining his peripheral vision to discern his surroundings. His elven senses allowed him a somewhat more complete image of what was going on around him, but not one so clear that his inability to even raise his own head was not an infuriation. Waves of emotions tore through his mind as he lay helplessly motionless - anxiety largely competing with frustration for dominance. 

When the healer had satisfactorily inspected his supplies, he carefully approached the injured elfling, taking care not to further alarm the boy. "I know that you cannot understand me, my son, but I am Tewarn, the healer amongst this party. I do not wish you harm, but you have been injured, and are in need of my care." As the man explained his intentions, distracting the youth with his gentle and soothing tone, his right hand slowly made its way to the elf's knife wound. 

It was unclear whether the blonde noticed this sly motion, for he did not deter his gaze from that of the healer's. Instead he met the man with a stare so intense that the healer was certain the young elf was reading his mind. For several minutes the two remained locked in a visual exchange, each reading the other for reactions and emotions words failed to express. From deep within the sapphire orbs, the man beheld a strength fortified by the fears the youth harbored, unwilling to fully embrace or display his insecurity. He also read the fervent distrust the boy felt towards the band, as well as a desire to flee that was both urgent and recognized as impotent.

At last the healer's hand contacted the base of one of the elf's most obvious wounds, the arrow that protruded from his arm, and tentatively prodded the sensitive flesh. The elfling's countenance offered no change - not even the minutest of flinches crossing his features, despite how painful the injury must have been. His lack of reaction unambiguously alerted the human that his paralysis had also affected his sense of touch. 

The man sighed in relief and glanced behind him, where a second man patiently waited for his next direction. Excitement was clear on the younger man's face, as he elatedly gazed at the magnificent creature before him. "The poison blocks his pain, most mercifully. Though he has speech, he will not cry out when we stitch his wounds," Tewarn reported, momentarily studying his assistant. The man was younger than most, barely 20 summers, and still held about him the naivety and zeal of youth. 

After the young human nodded his comprehension, the healer instructed him on which supplies would be needed. With laden arms, the youth returned to his mentor's side, carefully laying out all he had brought with. 

Beside them, a fire had been prepared, with a pot of boiling water erected over it. The auburn-haired novice proceeded to sterilize each of the instruments, placing them back down on a fresh cloth. 

"Good," the older man affirmed with a nod of his head, glancing over the items. He then turned to the elf, again meeting his now concerned gaze. He noted a fresh sheen of sweat on the child's brow, indicating an increase in his anxiety. "Be at peace, my woodland friend. This is my assistant Sade. You shall not feel any pain while we tend your leg," he assured the fretful patient, maintaining a soothing tone as he hoped to ease some of the young one's fears. 

"Why do you continue to speak to him, telling him of our intentions, if he cannot understand our words?" Sade interjected, confusion evident within his tone.

Tewarn turned to regard the young man, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth at this show of inexperience. "He may not understand our words, but he can interpret the tone in which they are given. A gentle tone comforts those who are frightened and uneasy, my young friend, and is beneficial in easing the tension from taut muscles." He paused as he observed his companion begin to comprehend. "He will be a much easier patient if he relaxes, even the slightest amount, and will heal faster for the reduction in stress."

Sade nodded at the wisdom of his teacher. He glanced up at the elf's face, and observed that the efforts had met some effect, for the vibrant display of fear in the child's eyes had dimmed somewhat. 

With a final glance and reassuring smile at his patient, Tewarn began explaining how they would proceed, both for his patient's benefit, and his pupil's. He first conducted a thorough inspection of the elf's body, removing his clothes to check for any redness or obvious injury. When finished, he concluded that the leg and arm appeared to be the most pressing of the boy's injuries, although numerous arrow wounds had grazed the flesh in various other areas. As a whole, they boy appeared somewhat of a canvas for a very enraged painter, for numerous minor lacerations and contusions also marred his flesh. 

The pair promptly set to work, carefully removing the hindering garments from the effected leg, and soon had the injury sealed and bandaged. They then moved to the wound of the next highest degree of severity, repeating the process until all of the child's injuries had been cared for.

The elf appeared to understand what they were doing, and gradually began to look less fearful. He was still very alert, however, and consistently tensed the few muscles he could control each time something new entered his view. 

"You have done very well, brave one. The knife injury was more jagged than anticipated, but all has been stitched, and should heal well," the healer informed him, gently smoothing the long hairs from the elflings face as he spoke. The elf started at the sudden movement near his face, but quickly settled as he interpreted the calming gesture. Tewarn smiled at the small sign of trust, recognizing that the elf had realized that his intentions were not ill. 

Sade busied himself with collecting their soiled cloths, and re-sterilizing the equipment. It had taken a great deal of effort for him to concentrate on his duties while assisting Tewarn during the procedure, for he was constantly distracted by the close proximity between himself and the remarkable young creature. The youth's skin was alarmingly silky, and seemed to possess some form of glowing property, reminding him that his patient was not human. He listened as the healer spoke to the elf, as if he were any other patient, and was once again impressed by the kind-hearted man. He found it oddly discomforting to be around the strange being, for he had seldom been around different peoples, especially under such unusual circumstances, and was both glad and humbled by the manner with which his teacher handled the situation. He felt a surge of pride that he was to learn from so admirable a man, and hoped that he would one day be just as skilled in relating to his own patients. 

A gentle hand on his shoulder halted his movements, and he glanced up at his mentor with a curious gaze.

"We have now cared for his wounds. What should be done next, my apprentice?" the healer asked him, his tone suggesting he was forgetting an important step.

The young mortal frowned, and stared blankly at the man before him. The knife had been removed, the wound cleansed, stitched, and finally bandaged. What had they not done?

"Remember to always complete a full examination of an injured person. It is not always obvious where they are hurt, especially if they have multiple wounds. I fear the extent of his injuries is not solely contained within his front half. We must now turn him on his stomach to examine his back," Tewarn explained, chastising him lightly for his inattention. 

Sade nodded gravely, berating himself for forgetting one of the most fundamental rules of dealing with injured patients.

The older man smiled as he saw the emotions flash across his companion's features, cognizant of the internal beating the young pupil was subjecting himself. "Do not scold yourself too harshly. Oversights happen frequently. All that can be done is to learn from your mistakes, and take more care the next time to ensure you are not missing so vital a step."

The young man's head was bowed in shame as he listened to the words that both served to console him and admonish him. With a deep breath he raised his head, nodding at his teacher that he was composed and ready to continue.

Tewarn granted him a second smile, and moved to the elf's head. "We must now check your other side for further injuries," he murmured near the blonde head, waiting for the young human to assume his place beside him.

Once the two were in place, they rolled the elfling onto his stomach, taking care not to jostle him unduly. After ensuring he was able to breathe properly, the healer conducted a second examination of the elf, while his assistant monitored the elf for any reactions. 

The elfling continued to display no indication that he could feel any of their actions, though he appeared quite concerned. 

Unable to gauge whether his patient was in pain or not, the healer removed the remainder of his clothing to better inspect the area. From this process the pair uncovered a myriad of cuts and scrapes, accentuated by two sets of very distinct bite marks. Several larger cuts of varying severity left deep gouges and ragged scrapes on multiple parts of his body, remnants of his prolonged fall. A slight burn colored the center of his back a rosy shade of red, blistering into rosettes of orange and ruby in a few places.

The young apprentice frowned as he took in the badly marked skin, his brows furrowing together in an aggrieved expression. "How do you suppose he came to acquire such a number of wounds?" the young man asked in a voiced laced with pity, tenderly tracing a thin cut that spanned the elf's left shoulder blade. 

The healer regarded his charge with a small grin, observing the concern radiating in the man's honey brown eyes. It was good that the young man felt sympathy for his patients, for it would help him relate to them better. "He came to our camp not by choice, but because he was fleeing the spiders and from the looks of it, Orcs. Most likely they had chased him for some time, and in his haste to escape them, he did not have time to carefully choose his path," he replied softly, pride in his student's compassionate demeanor coloring his tone. 

After allowing him a moment longer to revel in his emotional response, the older man directed him to the care of the injuries. Together they cleaned the numerous welts left by what they assumed to be the sizable teeth of wolves, and flushed out what poison they could from the spider bites, before applying a soothing balm and bandaging them. Next they gently washed the many scrapes and cuts, rubbing the cream into these areas as well. The burn was the final injury they dealt with, and after cleaning the area they applied a special ointment for burns.

Tewarn quickly assessed their work, and after approving it, indicated for his assistant to help him return the elf to his back. "It is with luck that his wounds were not poisoned. See that he is covered and kept warm," he instructed, "Also, it would benefit him if you could get him to drink something. I will prepare a sleeping draught."

XXXXXXXXXXX

At the center of the camp, the leader watched with mild interest as the healers tended to their patient. His mind circled around what had just happened. The men of his band were still buzzing with excitement, and rightly so. Perhaps the gods truly did listen at times? He mused at the hypocrisy of such a thought. In truth, they were far from the most honest of groups, comprised of mercenaries and thieves. Their goals shifted with the ever-changing seasons, and the fickle demands of those with gold enough to spare. Still, this new development did alter their plans in no small amount. There was too much risk remaining near the forest's edge. He had no way of knowing how far away the young elf's home was, but his instinct was nagging at him to increase their distance with all haste. 

Behind him, the groups of men continued to huddle together, though some of the earlier fervor had died down. He caught the many greedy gazes being cast at the not-so-distant prone figure, and frowned. While a prize without parallel, the elf raised interesting problems for the group leader. Most plunder required the entire group for successful transport, and if anxieties were raised, it could typically be divided before reaching their destination. Captives too required the effort of the entire group, but were more likely to foster complete cooperation for the entire process. But this… The elf was small, easily contained and transported. Acknowledging the pang of dread in his gut, he frowned. The men could be trusted to work when there was need, but in the face of such a great temptation he was less than confident, especially when the spoils were so rich, and the effort so trivial in comparison. He would have to tread very carefully to get them through this situation without the band falling prey to the lure of their own selfish desires.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Beside the elf child, and oblivious to any activities concerning the rest of their companions, Sade nodded as his mentor rose to sift through their supplies. Moving to replace the older man, the auburn-haired youth began arranging layers of blankets over the small form. When he had finished, he reached beside him for his water flask, and brought it close to the elfling's face.

Immediately the blonde's eyes widened in alarm, his features tensing as he watched the object move steadily nearer.

"Do not fear, young one, this is only water," Sade assured him, feeling somewhat awkward knowing that his audience could not understand him. "The healer would appreciate it very much if you would partake of a small amount." He smiled encouragingly as he very slowly slid his hand beneath the elf's head, and elevated his upper body.

Legolas soon realized what was expected of him, and readily accepted the cool water, savoring the refreshing liquid. He found it unnerving to be helpless to aid himself, however, and immediately felt embarrassed when his body was manipulated into position as if he were little more than a doll. He drank only a small amount before grunting his completion, a sign that was accurately interpreted by the young human supporting him.

Before he was laid back down, however, Tewarn returned with a mug of a steaming brew, and a bright smile on his face. "This will help you sleep, child, that your body might begin to heal itself," he explained, holding the cup up to the elf's lips.

The elfling scrunched his nose up at the repugnant smell of herbs and spices that suddenly assaulted his olfactory sense. He did not know what the substance was, but it did not appear to be pleasant. "_Baw!_" (No,) he declined in distaste, contorting his features in displeasure at the continued aroma. "_U-hogathon saew cîn_," (I will not drink your poison,) he murmured bitterly, glaring at the man who held it before him.

The healer smiled sympathetically at the blonde's grimace, but pushed the cup closer to his mouth. "The scent may not please you, my son, but you must drink this," he insisted, gazing expectantly into the sapphire eyes that had focused on him.

Frustrated, the young hunter again grumbled his unwillingness, hoping that the offending mug would be removed. "_Baw! U-dheln!_" (Nay! I won't!) he protested sharply. To accentuate his point, he clamped his jaw shut, and glared in annoyance at the mortal who refused to remove the mug.

The two men chuckled at the scowl that creased the fair young face, a petulant look that seemed innate to children of all races.

"I understand your displeasure, for many of our own men do not enjoy the draught either, but I must insist that you drink this," Tewarn persisted, staring meaningfully into the slightly narrowed blue orbs. His tone was no longer as gentle as it had been, gradually acquiring a firm quality that was adamant without being overly forceful. A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes as he continued to regard the unyielding youth, causing the elf's frown to deepen in suspicion. "If you do not take this willingly, we will be forced to make you drink it," he stated simply, cocking an expectant brow.

Sade watched the exchanged with a smirk he only partially attempted to mask, delighted in the stubbornness displayed by the being that no longer seemed so different from their own kind. He bit his lip to avoid a burst of laughter when the blonde fixed him with a glower that could chill the blood of an angry wolf, and had to avert his eyes to maintain his composure. 

Legolas grunted in exasperation as he witnessed the amusement in the eyes of his tormentors. His gaze narrowed on the smug expression of the man before him, and immediately a feeling of uneasiness washed over him. Glancing between the two, he realized they had no intention of backing down, and he, being powerless to defend himself, could not stop them. With a resentful sigh, he opened his mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut against the taste he knew would match the foul odor of the mixture.

The two men beamed triumphantly as the elf relented, and with great care, assisted him in emptying the mug. 

The elf nearly gagged as the putrid liquid hit his tongue, and forced himself not to spit the substance out. He had always found medicine to be foul, but the creation of these humans was truly revolting. "It is no wonder their kind suffer death so early," his mind sneered, astonished by the talent for concocting such horrible fluid. "I cannot imagine the draught of orcs tasting much worse!" 

XXXXXXXXX

While the healers continued their care of the young elf, the remainder of the group was gathered in a circle around their leader. Having heard his proposed plan, and having had time to consider it, they all gave their assent.

Gazing pointedly at each man in turn, the solid man who commanded them carefully studied them for even the slightest hint of duplicity. Feeling at least moderately confident that all would play their part, he dismissed them and retired to a seat near the steadily burning fire. 

He could hear muffled conversations picking up between various men. Deep within his thoughts, he feared the dark plots that had doubtlessly been blossoming in the minds of some of the more rogue members of his group, but resigned himself to trust them at their word. Endless worry would not help, and the coming journey would be strenuous enough. He was no stranger to betrayal or mutiny, but was confident enough in his own experience to see himself through this latest development. He had led these men well, many for several seasons, and they would trust him to be fair with the spoils as he had always been. Or so he forced himself to believe. Instead of dwelling on such doubts, however, with great effort he diverted his focus to fanciful thoughts how very rich they would all be in a short time. They had only to make it to the southern seaports.

XXXXXXXXXXX

After a small eternity, at least for the elfling, the drink was finished. Both men grinned brightly at the still grimacing elfling as they removed the mug and wiped any liquid that had spilled from his chin.

"You did very well, and I assure you that the taste will subside," the healer consoled the affronted child, chuckling softly as the angry glare returned to the crystalline pools. Slowly he laid the boy back down, smoothing the blankets over him as he waited for the drink to take effect. "Now you must sleep, young one, for your body has much work to do."

Almost immediately the young archer felt his lids begin to droop as a veil of drowsiness settled over him. He scowled belligerently at the faces that watched his progress; loathe to give in to the effects of the repulsive substance they had forced him to ingest. Though very different from what the elves used, he'd recognized the draught for what it was intended, and knew that it had been administered in his better interest. Regardless of this knowledge, the elfling was still angered that he was so utterly at the mercy of these mortals that he'd had virtually no choice in the matter. If he had not willingly accepted the tonic, he knew they would have forced it into him, and he would not have been able to stop them.

As his body gave in to the darkness that crept along the edges of his vision, he grumbled a final insult to his captors, still unwilling to admit defeat. "_Levain thaur_," (Foul beasts,) he hissed weakly, feeling his awareness cloud before his eyes finally glazed over into a healing trance.

For several minutes the pair of men remained breathlessly still, all expressions vanished from their faces save identical looks of astonishment. 

"I-is... what... Why does he lay like that?" Sade stammered shakily, breaking the intense silence that had fallen over them. 

At his words, the older man seemed to come to his senses, though he was yet unable to tear his gaze from the disturbing sight before him. "I cannot say, for I fear my knowledge of elves is far too limited. Truly it is disconcerting to us for him to remain in such a way, but perhaps it is how his kind heals. He appears to be in the embrace of sleep, therefore we must believe that he is not in danger - at least none that we may help him from," he answered thoughtfully, raising his hand to gently wave it before the vacant stare. As he suspected, the child made no move to indicate he had registered the gesture, supporting his previous conjecture that the boy was indeed asleep. 

More minutes passed, with neither moving from their position, intent on watching the mythical creature as if he might vanish at any moment. Finally realizing how foolish they were behaving, Tewarn finally drew himself from his stupor, gently shaking his companion to do the same for him.

When the warm brown eyes at last met his own, he gestured behind him, indicating that they should leave the patient to his rest. Carefully monitoring the younger man, he failed to hide his smirk as the young man stole a last look at their charge, obviously hesitant to move away. 

"Come, my friend. The elf is not going anywhere soon; you may watch him to your heart's content later this eve. Now we must tend to our equipment, for we have much work left to be done," the healer reminded his thoroughly distracted student, handing him several of the soiled clothes to emphasize the statement.

Sade startled slightly as the rags were placed in his hand. He sheepishly glanced up at his mentor, discerning that the man knew he hadn't been fully listening. He whispered an apology as he began gathering all the remaining soiled clothes, bringing them to the still boiling water to be washed.

Tewarn watched his progress for a few moments, humored by the look of guilt his apprentice so prominently displayed. He understood the youth's inattention, and felt nothing but amusement for the unconcealed reactions of his companion. "So young," he sighed to himself, marveling at how age had mellowed his own ability to be distracted, allowing him to retain his focus despite his intrigue.

Once everything had been cleaned and sterilized, the supplies repackaged, and the cloths arranged to be dried, master and apprentice returned to their resting patient. 

"What's to become of him?" the younger of the two asked, a note of something akin to dread in his question.

Tewarn grimly regarded his companion. At times he was so young. He regretted that it had been the boy's father, a bitter man he'd known on prior "trading missions", who had dragged the boy to such an existence, for truly his nature was far too gentle for the sorts of affairs their group was typically involved with. Only through the father's unyielding persistence had he even been admitted to their group, and then only under the careful watch of the older healer. 

Tewarn shook his head, theirs was a harsh reality, and the role of the healer raised even further moral complications. It was his secret hope that after learning some of what he could, the youth would leave his tutelage and follow a path more suited to his pure heart. For himself, he had long since come to terms with such moral ambiguities, and where he could not rationalize some actions, he had trained himself to purposefully ignore them. 

"Without question he will be sold in the South. There has ever been great demand for one of his race, and doubtlessly the Captain will have more bids than he can sort through. Elves do not easily lend themselves to capture. His rarity will provide a most handsome sum… and no small amount of prestige for us all," he answered at last, opting to provide the most brutally honest response. Better the youth had to grapple with the harsh reality now, than be surprised later. 

He could see Sade's face fall, shock and horror creeping over his features. It was soon replaced by a deadening of his eyes, as no doubt his mind reminded him of the sort of company he kept. What else could he have expected?

Sade gradually raised his gaze, turning slightly to study the man beside him. The one thing the youth had the most trouble coming to terms with was Tewarn himself. The man was the best healer he'd ever met, and so often proved himself capable of remarkable compassion. And yet, here he was contentedly resigning their young patient to a life of slavery. How did the man care one moment, but not the next? Or did he care, and just hide that fact? He shook his head. He longed to question the man on it, but knew from experience that inquiries into the healer's private life were not well received. Wisely he opted to hold his tongue on the matter, while deep down wondering if he would ever be able to detach himself so completely. At the moment, he was not inclined to think so.

Silence pervaded the area as the two sat, content to observe the slumbering elf for a time. Eventually, the beckon of sleep was too strong for the older man, and he bid goodnight to his pupil, reminding him to alert him should the elf's status change.

For some time the novice healer sat staring at the luminescent being, never tiring of the uniqueness of the creature, nor of the hours spent in silent vigilance at his side. Gradually the weariness of his body enveloped him, lulling him to sleep with the gentle embrace of slumber. At first he fought the temptation, steeling his mind against the seductive whispers of soothing release; but in the end, he succumbed to its subtle manipulation, surrendering himself to the oblivion of dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

Sleep held tightly to the healers and their patient that night, all sounds and motions passing unheeded as the grasp of slumber forbade their rousing. Yards away, the blaze crackled in the still of night, illuminating the small number who yet denied themselves the luxury of rest. The majority of the encampment slept soundly in a ring of hastily strewn bedrolls, however, each thankful for the respite they were offered by the evening's calm. 

A sharp snap broke the serenity of the scene, erupting from the shadows beyond the light's reach. The wakeful men jumped at the sound, each springing to their feet to identify the direction and potential cause of the disturbance. Silence pervaded past their limited ring of light, interrupted only by the muffled snores of the still sleeping men and the steady serenade of the night's inhabitants. The thin strip of moonlight offered little assistance as the men continued to scan the darkened reaches outside their circle.

Minutes passed without event, gradually easing the alarm of the wary guards. Eventually they returned to their earlier posts, concluding that the cause of the noise had since passed them by. A second, even louder crack nullified their assumption as it tore through the camp a short time later. Again the men jumped to the ready, nervously peering into the black veil around them. 

Despite the reverberation the noise created, the slumbering band remained lost in unconsciousness, mindless of the impending danger that lurked so closely. Nevertheless, the forest temporarily rose to life, excited by the sudden interruption that could only mean danger. Creatures of all types cackled their alarm, warning those around them of the occurrence. 

The men winced as they listened to the brief uproar, intimidated by the intensity of sound the forest emitted. Fretfully they waited for whatever attack was to come, partially expecting terrified animals to come charging into their camp at any moment. Within minutes, the clamor subsided, returning the former peace as though it had never been broken. 

Relief flooded the tense sentinels as the progression of time failed to bring catastrophe. Still concerned, they remained frozen where they stood for some time longer, making certain the welcome change was not a calculated illusion. 

When no further interruptions presented themselves, one of the men emitted a high-pitched whistle. Immediately a figure emerged from the shadowy abyss, pausing at the edge of the fire's light to survey the motionless group. A sly smile lit his face as his unvoiced question was met with a nod from the foremost member of the party.

"Considerably more reaction than we'd anticipated, wouldn't you say?" he snickered. His comment was met with a chorus of concurring chuckles, though it remained evident that many of the group had not fully calmed. A wary eye glanced around the group, silently identifying those who seemed less comfortable with the situation than was perhaps desirable. "I take it everything has gone smoothly here?" he inquired absently, his gaze moving to inspect the numerous sleeping forms that encircled the small cluster.

Four more men materialized from the unyielding blackness, taking their cue from the banter that it was safe to reveal their presences. They remained silent as they moved to join the others, wordlessly admiring the camp that yet lingered in sleep.

"Impeccably so, as you can see," the man in the center remarked, a smug glint in his eye as he coolly regarded his fellow conspirator. 

"I do," the first man agreed with a small nod, grinning at his boastful comrade. Casually he entered the ring of light, his smile broadening with each unconscious body he stepped over. He was soon revealed to be a tall man of considerable build, hardened by years of life in the wilds. His dark eyes reflected the coldness of his spirit as they gleamed in the firelight, lending to the menacing air that clung about him as he amusedly made his way over to the waiting men. "Although I had begun to worry for the delay," he appended, turning to face the other man with an expectant glare. His smile faltered as he waited for the explanation he felt he was owed.

"It was the boy - he avoided sleep for some time this night, wishing to remain awake to further marvel at the elf-child," the second responded in a somewhat derisive tone, glaring at the form of the young healer as if to emphasize his irritation. "We dared not proceed until he had fallen asleep, though we would have taken... alternative measures, had he not begun to drowse as he did."

The taller man regarded him silently for a moment, his lips pursed in a thin line. "Very well," he replied, accepting the explanation. "Let us not waste any more time. We have many leagues to travel before first light, and I fear we may have already delayed longer than is preferable."

The surrounding band of men scattered throughout the camp, some gathering supplies, while a few others moved to the dwindling flame that illuminated the sleeping forms of the elf and two healers. The leaders of the crew remained standing where they were, quietly observing the progress of the others. 

"Are we to take both healers, Jarek?" one man called from the far side of the site, standing beside the indicated bodies.

The shorter of the two fixed the man with an exasperated glare. "As we agreed, yes, we are bringing them both," he answered gruffly. "And be sure to bind them - we can't afford for the elf to escape, or for Tewarn to take up a quarrel with us while we travel." 

"And the youth?" a second man inquired, standing beside the first, nearer the elf.

"Couldn't defend himself against an angry sparrow," the tall commander sneered. "But bind him as well, if only so he doesn't feel overlooked…"

"Remain where you stand!" a bellowing voice ordered, causing all to turn at the forceful interjector.

Two blades glinted in the flicker of blaze, just behind the two men who had been about to follow orders. At their hilt stood Tewarn, angrily glaring at the troupe of traitors as he firmly wielded the swords. 

"What is the meaning of this, Prevos?" he demanded, his eyes boring icily into the man he knew to be responsible.

The tall commander raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic stern tone and fiery stare of the healer. "Tewarn, my friend, I did not know you to possess such fury," he commented amusedly, effectively masking any surprise he may have felt at the unforeseen resistance. 

The healer appeared unfazed by the disdainful riposte, and continued to steadily glare in disgust at the man. "I, however, have always known you capable of low and despicable deeds," he returned acidly. 

Prevos quietly studied the angry resister for several moments, contemplating how to proceed. Dark hair hung limply about his shoulder, a layer of oils causing it to glisten in the flicker of the flames, reflecting onto the equally greasy hair of his beard and mustache as he idly fingered it. He cast an exasperated glare over his shoulder at Jarek, wordlessly accusing him of failing and allowing the hindrance. Finally he returned his gaze to the vigilante before him, displaying a calm visage that successfully veiled his annoyance with the highly inconvenient delay. "We have known each other for many years, and I have never known you to behave rashly," he pronounced with a sickly smile, as the healer impatiently nudged his hostages with the tip of his swords. 

The antagonist frowned at the placating comment, his glare narrowing dangerously at the vile being he'd loathed for much of the time he'd known him. "I believe my behavior is justified, given the circumstances," he snapped. "What I do not understand is what ills you intend to accomplish, having drugged our men." 

He was awarded multiple looks of surprise for his comment, as he revealed his knowledge of what they had done. 

A disbelieving snicker rose in his throat as he witnessed the inanity of the group. "After the many years I have spent as a master of herb-lore, it surprises you that I would recognize when a vile concoction was presented to me? Your administration of the sleeping draught was scarcely subtle, though I commend you for your skill in delivering it to such a number of water-vessels." 

The men appeared startled and intimated by his frank averment, doubt clouding their thoughts as feelings of guilt were enhanced by his elucidation of what they had done to those they had long considered their companions. 

The healer noticed the slight waver in the mutinous band's resolve, causing a glint of hope to stir within him at the possibility that perhaps he could talk down the uprising. "What are your plans for the rest once you have taken the elf child?" he demanded Prevos, whom he knew to be the instigator of the foul plot. He had never liked the man, having long ago recognized that his heart was blackened, and his thoughts only concerned themselves with his own advancement. In battle he was a fierce opponent, with a lust for bloodshed that had immediately alarmed the healer. Likewise, he'd never presented himself as the most trust-worthy of allies, for he would sooner safeguard his own life, than risk it for the benefit of another.

His gaze moved to the surrounding men, coming to rest on a shorter man to the rear of the dark haired villain. Immediately he realized that whatever their plan, there was to be a handsome pay off, for he knew Jarek to be easily swayed by his greed for gold. His eyebrows furrowed angrily as he glared at the man through narrowed slits, sickened by the depth the man would sink to for his avarice. Unlike his partner, he was not overly detestable in nature, but his immense greed rendered him an unreliable ally. "I am appalled that you would consider such atrocious deeds Jarek, even if much gold is promised," he sneered, his mind deducing where their path led. "Turning on your entire party is one thing, but as I'm sure you're aware, Prevos would never be content to simply leave them behind. I had not thought you as deceitful or treacherous as Prevos, but obviously your relations with him have tainted you."

Jarek snarled, a red curtain of fury falling about him as he listened to the man he had always respected vilify him. In the back of his mind, he knew the words to be true, for he had never known the healer to lie, and his own conscience had been screaming a similar mantra to him for some time. It had been a hard decision to reconcile himself with, the knowledge that he was about to participate in the murder of those he had begun to call friends. Unfortunately, he knew it was too late to back out of the agreement he had committed himself to, and he feared crossing Prevos, who would not hesitate to turn against him violently. 

He averted his gaze from the truthful man, choosing instead to stare at the ground beside him. He would not break his word, but he could no longer suffer to watch the situation culminate. "I'm sorry," he whispered beneath his breath, offering no other response as he waited for the stalemate to end.

Prevos scowled angrily as he observed the healer's attempts at dissuading his men. As the man's words began to take seed in the heart of one of his more valuable accomplices, he resolved that he would stand for the interruption no longer. He turned his gaze to a couple of men who stood a few feet from the irate older man and his hostages, silently instructing them to act while the insurrectionary was distracted. 

Before long, the men caught his gaze and nodded slightly, silently creeping closer to the healer who had moved his tirade from Jarek to another few individuals. Unbeknownst to him, they cautiously slipped behind him, coming to stand within arms reach of his back. After a confirming glance at one another, they struck out in unison, one solidly connecting with the back of the healer's head, while the other landed blows to his shoulders and lower back.

Tewarn grunted at the jarring impact, interrupting him mid-sentence, and immediately sending him into unconsciousness. His suddenly limp body crumbled to the ground, the swords falling at his sides.

The dark-haired commander grinned spitefully at the motionless body, nodding his approval at the two who had succeeded in felling him. "Now that that has been resolved," he proclaimed, irritated by the amount of time they had wasted, "We should really be on our way. Daylight approaches, and we still have much ground to cover." He glanced pointedly around him, signaling the men to resume their earlier tasks. 

A deep frown embedded itself in his features as he read the doubt that flickered across the countenances of many of his troupe. "Curse that insubordinate fool," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Make sure that he is bound tightly," he barked at the men attempting to bind the healer. "And I want all of you to be sure that no weapons come near the captives!" he added sharply.

Within a half hour, all preparations had been completed. The evil deeds had been carried out as planned, and they now stood gathered on the edge of a circle of silent corpses, the metallic tang of blood soaking into the surrounding earth and scenting the air. Prevos silently surveyed the group, noting with displeasure that many of them still looked highly uncertain of their actions. "I want you all remember that you agreed to be a part of this. I do not take kindly to double-crossers, nor to deserters. I encourage any of you who do not think you are capable of continuing to stay here, and face whatever punishment will be visited upon you," he baited.

The majority of the group refused to meet his stare, and stood shifting uncomfortably as they listened to his words. In spite of their misgivings, they knew they were too far involved to back out, without incurring the wrath of an already enraged Prevos.

An arrogant smirk pulled at the corner of their leaders' mouth as he watched them gradually settle and recommit to their mission. He cared not what doubts or moral qualms they harbored, only that they were willing to continue. "I believe we are ready to depart. I expect any who accompany me to dedicate themselves fully to our plan. I will not accept partial commitment at any point henceforth. I warn you that the consequences of such deeds will be far more unpleasant than the fates of these men here tonight. If you do not think yourself able to overcome your fears and declare your allegiance to our intent, then you should take this opportunity to remain behind." He allowed a moment for his words to sink in and his men to consider them, knowing that none would dare allow their reservations to dictate their actions in face of so large a group. 

As predicted, fierce stares were returned to him, with grave nods signaling that each intended to proceed. Doubts were squelched, and emotions hidden as the men strove to appear firm in their resolve.

"Good," he grinned, chuckling triumphantly. "Soon you shall all be very wealthy men."

Greedy smiles broke out across the group as they remembered the rich prospect that awaited them upon the delivery of their "merchandise". With renewed vigor, the men loaded the bound captives into a cart along with the majority of their provisions and prepared to leave.

"Everything appears set," Jarek informed Prevos a few minutes later, coming to stand beside the silent man who had been deep into thought as he studied their progress. 

Prevos nodded absently, his fingers running through his mustache. "Aye," he murmured, still apparently lost in his internal mullings. A few moments later he turned to face Jarek, seemingly still distracted, but gradually regaining his awareness. "We are ready?" he asked, for the first time making eye contact with his shorter associate.

Jarek nodded, his loose brown hair bouncing slightly at the gesture. "Awaiting your signal," he replied, curiously eyeing the taller man, attempting to discern the nature of his distraction. "Is something troubling you?"

"Eh? Oh, nay, not. Nothing of import," he denied, shrugging off the inquiry as he composed himself. The men had steadily been filing in around the two, until all were gathered together. Prevos spent a moment assessing them once again, 6 in all, with their 3 captives bound and laid on a cart behind them, before offering a zealous smile. "Well done, men," he approved. With a glance at the position of the moon, he turned his attention back to the assembled group. "The moonlight wanes, haste is most needed! There shall be no rest, we make for the Anduin by sun's peak!" he declared in a booming voice, eliciting an eruption of ardent chatter in his wake as they filtered out of the encampment.


	6. Chapter 6

The host of men traveled south and then west at a brisk pace, hindered only by the restricting visibility of the mist that arose as the night progressed. As they journeyed, a few of the better trackers trailed behind them, masking their path, and occasionally creating diversionary trails. Uneventful hours passed, marked only by the gradual ease of the night's shadowy curtain. As ordered, they did not pause on their hurried trek, not daring to allow any who might come upon their abandoned camp the opportunity to discover them. Their greatest fear were the elves, for they all knew that once they were aware of the child's absence, they would surely be pursued with fiery vengeance.

"Halt! We make camp here!" the tall commander shouted, raising his arms to stall the ceaseless marching of his band. He indicated a small clearing off to one side, shielded by a small natural hedge, which the men immediately settled into without further prompting. Hidden by the meager barrier was a small stream, providing the exhausted travelers with a convenient source of water with which to refresh themselves. A few men had been sent ahead to scout out the best possible location for the group to take their rest, and they had reported that this site, while not as secluded as would have been preferred, was likely to be the best they would find for some time. 

The sun had risen several hours before, and was now well on its path to the peak of its grand arch. A full day had passed since any of the men had been able to sleep, and rest of any kind had not been granted for many hours. Despite their mounting fatigue, the men had relentlessly continued their grueling march, swallowing any complaints they may have harbored, and ignoring the protests their bodies raised. Tired to the point of collapsing, none bothered to question the direction given, nor to truly examine the designated area. Instead, they were simply grateful for the opportunity to stop, and welcomed whatever rest they would be allowed, knowing that it would be far briefer than any of them desired.

The new captain and his lieutenant slowly wound their way through the unfolding camp, monitoring the progress of the preparations, and assigning guards for the first shift of their resting period. Each person selected grumbled in much the same fashion, though all accepted the unwelcome burden without argument. They knew that in spite of their weariness, caution was needed, and eventually all would do their part.

"I suggest we limit our stay here to a few hours," Prevos commented, drawing next to his companion.

Greenish eyes glanced up at him as their owner nodded in agreement. "The men are weary, but we cannot afford to stop just yet, not for any significant period. If the elves have discovered what we have done, they will undoubtedly be hastening in our wake and have the benefit of light to speed their travel. Hopefully this brief pause will grant us the stamina needed to complete this day. It would doubtlessly be preferable to continue on into the night, but I fear we will not hold for such a length of time."

"We knew this initial interval would present the most difficulty," the taller man remarked, a grim expression imbedded in his features. "Still, the men have born themselves well, and though it will be strenuous, I believe we are not so unrealistic in asking for a second press of similar duration. It would certainly be beneficial to our lead, for I fail to believe that such a distance would be easily crossed by any who would seek to find us. It would thus nearly guarantee our success in that it would be virtually impossible for even mounted riders to close such a lead before we reach our destination."

Jarek appeared to consider his commander's argument for a few minutes, thoughtfully glancing around at the freshly erected campsite. "Perhaps," he conceded at last, his tone reflecting the doubtfulness that still plagued his mind. "Irregardless, it seems as though we have little room for consideration; our options are severely limited, and time is not our luxury. We must do what is required." He frowned grimly as he pondered their situation, suddenly wondering why he ever agreed to such a high-risk scheme. "The money," his memory whispered, conjuring images of bagfuls of shining coins. It was far easier to split the grand spoils amongst 6 than it would have been with 12. A wry smile found its way to his mouth, despite the misgivings he still firmly held on to.

"Well spoken, my friend," the captain beamed, ignoring his companion's uncertainty. "It will all work out in the end, you'll see," he assured, roughly patting the other on the shoulder. 

"Men!" he bellowed moments later, turning his attention to the dispersed band, and drawing their focus to him. "Take your rest while you may, we leave at high noon!" he announced. 

A few of the men grumbled at this unwelcome - though not surprising - proclamation, realizing how few hours they were being allotted. None voiced their complaints, however, for all knew that a strong lead was imperative for their success. What few tasks remained were hastily completed, and soon the majority of the camp was fast asleep.

Time, as it was wont, passed far too quickly for the slumbering members, and sooner than any wished, the sun had reached the apex of its climb. The sleepers were given a rather harsh awakening, as the captain paced around their bedrolls bellowing. Those that did not arise immediately were submitted to vigorous shaking, and even dousings of cold water, if the first methods failed. Once awake, they were hurried through the process of readying themselves for travel, and tearing down their campsite. 

Jarek saw that a second dosage of the sleeping draught was administered to their captives, before inspecting the encampment's progress. Satisfied with their readiness, he reported his observations to Prevos.

"How long will they be out?" he asked the shorter man, after hearing the update on their prisoners' status. 

"They should not awaken before nightfall," the brunette responded, wiping the bleariness from his emerald eyes. He suppressed a yawn as he waited for the order to move, idly wondering how he was going to last another full day's travel.

"Very good," the captain grunted, fingering his scraggly beard. "Let us not delay any longer," he cried to the group, who resignedly awaited his command. "Onwards to the Anduin!" 

The men systematically formed a line and began their second day's hike, already looking forward to the coming evening, when they might be allowed a true rest. Their pace was somewhat slower than the previous leg, though still reasonably swift, as energy levels quickly drained, and the men struggled to push themselves through the strain of remaining both awake and active after such little repose. 

A few hours later the entourage met the bank of the mighty river. Prevos instructed them to walk in its waters, out to where it rushed about their knees, that their passage might leave no trail. As the pain of the strenuous activity began to weave its way into the muscles of the considerably exhausted party, the sun mercifully began to sink beyond the horizon. The air cooled to a refreshing temperature as the sky gradually progressed through a menagerie of colors, before fading into shades of deep purple. 

Encouraged by the excellent progress they had made, the commander decided to allow them an early end. Following the suggestion of the scouts he'd sent, he directed the men to a clearing near the riverside where they could set up their base for the night. 

The men were all too eager to comply, and promptly commenced the reconstruction of their camp with all the speed they could manage. After a hasty meal, all but the night's first guards retired to their bedrolls, some nearly fainting from fatigue. 

"We made it," Jarek stated to the dark haired man, a note of disbelief coloring his tone. 

Prevos smiled thinly at his companion, his midnight eyes twinkling smugly. "You sound as if you thought we would not." He did not wait for a response, knowing his interpretation was correct, and that his lieutenant would not deny it. "I am pleased we achieved so much ground. I believe it is fairly safe to assume that we need not worry about pursuit any longer."

The brunette nodded in response, his gaze thoughtful as he considered their present state more thoroughly. "Tomorrow - do you wish to continue our travels in the water, or shall we remain on the shore, where we will be able to achieve greater speed?"

The taller man frowned as he pondered the options for the following day, carefully weighing his confidence in their lead with the practicality of each method. "While we would surely be able to travel much faster on the bank, I am hesitant to abandon the protection of the water, and risk our trail being discovered," he admitted, verbally mulling over the situation. "Our course has been one of great predictability, as following a stream is often the most direct route. I do not think it entirely impossible, though certainly highly unlikely, that our direction may be guessed, and our trail found, however eventually. It may benefit us to favor caution..."

"Sir!" came an urgent cry, interrupting his contemplations. A thin man in his early thirties followed the call, long hair whipping behind him as he raced towards the two leaders. "The apprentice healer has awoken!" he declared once he'd reached them, panting slightly from rushing across the camp.

The news startled the commanders, who had not yet formally begun to consider what to do with the hostages once they recovered from their drugged slumber. Their earlier discussion completely forgotten, the two quickly glanced at one another, sharing a moment of alarm as their minds quickly churned to formulate a plan.

"He is yet bound, is he not?" Jarek asked the man, momentarily wondering if the haste of the messenger had been sprung from the instance of his escape.

"Aye sir," the man affirmed.

A deep frown pulled at the corners of the bearded figure's mouth, ideas and concerns flooding his consciousness in a barrage of frenzied chaos. "And the other two?" he questioned, only partially listening for the answer, his thoughts occupied by the hectic activity in his head.

"Nay not, sir. Estaf believes that they will be out for some time longer," the thin man reported, firmly standing before his superiors as he awaited their instructions.

"See that he is contained for the time being, Hummeth," Prevos ordered after several additional minutes of silent contemplation. His eyes were narrowed into slits as he regarded the individual before him, his mind still lost in its own inner conflict. "Do what must be done to ensure that he is not a distraction. I would prefer that we reserve our supplies for the draught until they are more urgently needed, but if it becomes necessary, do not hesitate to silence him by any means." His lips settled into a thin line as he thought of the young man he loathed as an incessant annoyance. 

He had initially been against the idea of bringing him along, but had eventually ceded to include him in their plan. They expected Tewarn to resist his capture, and it was this that raised concern. Until the older man awoke, they could not be sure that he would agree to help, even if his skills were direly needed. Although much less experienced, the youth's training had provided him with nearly all the skills of the healing arts, and Prevos had agreed that it was better to be overly prepared than not at all.

"And be wary of the healer, for he may try to deceive you in an attempt to achieve freedom," the shorter lieutenant added. Like the captain's, his thoughts had been filled with balancing the many uncertainties of dealing with their captives, and though cognizant of the conversation that had occurred, he had been focused on formulating the best method of handling them. "Before he wakes, check that his bindings are secure. We need not a second rendition of last eve's events. Oh, and have someone check on the elf-child's injuries," he advised evenly, systematically addressing the most pertinent issues that had circled through his mind.

"Aye sir," Humeth nodded. He waited a few moments for further instructions, and when none were offered, excused himself to return to the area where the captives were held.

Neither spoke as they watched the retreating form of the messenger rush to the opposite corner of their rest site. When he finally disappeared beyond view, the pair wordlessly glanced at each other, emotions permeating their gazes as they both silently expressed their own reactions and read the others'. 

"Have you any ideas on the matter?" Prevos asked in a hushed tone some minutes later. His words severed the entrancing link the two had shared, causing both to jump slightly as they were roughly thrown back into awareness.

Jarek frowned slightly, glancing back towards the far end of the camp for a moment. "I believe any planning must be put on hold until we have a clearer perspective of the situation. There are many factors that create much variation, too many, I believe, to decide on a specific course at this time."

Prevos scowled at the evasive response he received, casting an annoyed glare at his companion. "And what factors might those be?" he inquired, his tone sharp with derision. 

The shorter man blanched slightly at the anger evident on the other's features. Immediately catching himself, he solidified his own poise, brazenly returning the stare that he refused to allow to intimidate him. "Tewarn presents a very pressing impediment, should he refuse to comply. Also, the elf-child was dressed as a hunter, and though small in stature, I would not underestimate his ability to resist containment, especially if panicked. Even if we succeeded without undo difficulty, he does not speak our language, and thereby cannot understand orders…"

"There I think you may be mistaken. I am sure that given the appropriate... incentives... the child can infer our commands," Prevos interrupted with a smug grin, his eyes twinkling with the amusement of his own malicious thoughts. 

"Perhaps," Jarek consented sharply, shooting the burly man a deathly stare. A look of repulsion passed over his countenance as he deduced the reasoning for the man's sudden mirth.

Having composed himself, the captain restated his initial question, hoping to draw a more succinct answer from his snarling companion. "What would some of your suggestions be, disregarding these contingencies?" he asked in a carefully monitored tone that ensured his irritation would not seep into his voice.

"I think that the most profitable result would be for them to acquiesce to their capture, and allow themselves to be led. Then they could move of their own accord, granting them a greater sense of freedom, however fallacious it may actually be, which may prove to better their morale. We would then be able to discontinue our use of the cart, which would speed our progress, require less energy to be expended, and make it easier for us to cover our path," he confided, concluding his lengthy proposal.

"The only problem I can decipher from your plan is the unlikeliness of our hostages' cooperation," Prevos criticized with a thoughtful frown. 

"Aye," the stocky lieutenant agreed, "But you did request that I ignore the impediments of any such plan I had formulated."

The dark man continued to frown, a hand coming to play with the ends of his mustache as he stood silent for a few moments. "You know," he murmured, seemingly unaware his thoughts were being voiced, "It is possible that they be... persuaded." A malevolent spark twinkled in his eyes as the idea took shape inside his head, soon followed by a rumbling chuckle of insidious delight.

A fire of rage ignited within Jarek's breast at once again witnessing the sadistic nature of his companion's soul. Only a flash of the fiery disgust passed over his features before he was able to quell his desire to pummel the repugnant man who drew such satisfaction from the pain of others. A sickening sensation slowly trickled through his veins as a small voice reminded him that he'd agree to what was now _their_ scheme. 

When dark eyes at last met his gaze, he wisely masked his emotions, preferring to remain silent as he dared not to trust his own tongue.

Prevos quirked an eyebrow, a hint of a snicker transforming his smile as he identified the emotions his partner valiantly attempted to hide. He chose to refrain from voicing the snide comments that wove their way through his consciousness; instead he waited to see if the brunette would dare to voice his contempt.

Immediately Jarek recognized the unspoken challenge that was posed in the goading stare, and coolly matched it with his own unwavering glare. 

"We have not long to rest," the tall commander said finally, breaking their wordless dispute. "We will revisit this subject at a later hour." His tone left little room for argument, and without another word or glance, he turned and walked away.

For several minutes the green-eyed man remained as a statue, paralyzed as he succumbed to the furious inferno that raged beneath his skin, setting his blood to boil. He struggled to contain the scream of rage that surged within his veins, violently tearing through his system as it sought its release. 

He knew he was trapped, his actions dictated by the alliance he'd willingly forged. What was worse though, was that Prevos knew, and used that knowledge to torment him, purposefully baiting him when he knew his resolve was faltering. After tremendous effort, he was able to obtain a semblance of control great enough to allow him to seize possession of his silently quaking body, and lead it to a quiet spot where he hoped to be able to regain his calm.


	7. Chapter 7

At the opposite end of the encampment, Hummeth had finished recounting the orders he'd received, and with the assistance of two burly guards, was checking the bindings on their captives. 

The three hostages were arranged near a small fire, lying adjacent to one another. After the administration of the second sleeping drink, the elf's eyes had drawn closed; a side effect that had been unexpected, but not unwelcome, as his blank stare could no longer disturb those watching him. 

Only Sade lay awake, rigidly observing the proceedings with a mixture of resentment and fright. To ensure his cooperation, the guards had gagged him, unwilling to risk the event of him attempting to call out for help. His normally light brown eyes had deepened to a rich chocolate as the rage and insult of what had happened and how he was being treated brewed deep within him. Rendered completely helpless, he angrily ground his teeth around his gag as he listened to the others talk about him and the other two captives, as if they were no more than cattle to be prodded into obedience.

"Did they say what should be done with them come our departure later this day?" a light-haired man asked, standing apart from the guards. He was of average height and build, with several days' worth of dark blonde stubble accumulating on his round face. From his demeanor, it was easy to deduce that he was the head of the small faction.

"Nay, sir. I believe they were beginning to discuss that when I left," Hummeth responded, bowing his head slightly.

The leader, a man named Estaf, grunted, crossing his arms in front of him as his gaze traveled to the three prone bodies. His movement revealed a large jagged scar that ran the length of his bicep, a lasting reminder of the cost of a moment's hesitation. "I see. Well they'd best discuss quickly. For now its best that we take the advantage of this brief respite. You know where to find me, should anything change. Stay alert, and be cautious at all times. You can trade off with the other two after a few hours." Having delivered his orders, the blonde left the group to seek out his bedroll.

Sade let out a disgruntled groan and turned his head away from the guards. He dejectedly gazed at the sleeping form of his mentor, silently willing him to arise. As he studied the man, he became aware that on the back of the healer's head, a large welt had begun to form. The makings of a frown pulled at the edges of his mouth, though were largely ineffectual due to the gag firmly secured there. "When did that happened?" he asked himself, puzzled by the peculiar swelling. His mind quickly scanned his memories for a possible cause to the evident trauma, but could not recall any incident that would have incurred such a knot. 

His brows furrowed together as he cast a fiery glower in the direction of the guards, muttering curses at them which were further muffled by the cloth lodged in his mouth. Obviously something had gone wrong with their plot to drug the three of them, and Tewarn had suffered the penalty. "Perhaps he did not take the draught, as the rest of us did, and... He tried to stop them? ...He attempted to flee?" his mind ventured, considering the many possibilities for the man's injury, based on the knowledge he'd sequestered since reviving. During the guards' many conversations, he'd been able to piece together enough information to have a vague idea of what had transpired the previous evening, though the healer had never been mentioned specifically. 

Regardless of the details, he knew that whatever had happened had resulted in the wise man being forcefully subdued. He also knew that Tewarn was fully capable with weaponry; therefore, it stood to reason that he'd attempted something of a more assertive nature. Once again the young man found himself wishing the experienced healer were awake, that he might be comforted by his wealth of inner-strength, as well as given of the full account of the night's activities. From his position, Sade could not determine the full damage caused by whatever had felled his mentor, and thereby could not accurately formulate a guess as to how long he would be unconscious, though he now understood why it was taking the other a longer time to recover.

After a time his gaze traveled beyond the rhythmically breathing body, to the much smaller form beside him. Yet again he found himself lost in reverie as he marveled at the being: its tiny pointed ear (for only one was visible to him), shimmering golden hair, and pale luminescent skin that reflected the moonlight as if calling to its other half.

Just as before, a calming tide settled upon his nerves, dulling his worry and ebbing his uneasiness. Captivated by the slumbering creature, his mind drifted away to a place apart from reality, where time was but a distant memory, and all that existed was a gentle warmth that permeated the air, whispering a song of peace that overwhelmed his senses, and comforted his soul.

"Sade!" a gentle voice beckoned, fading in and out as the apprentice healer struggled to follow it to wakefulness. He blearily raised his eyelids and gazed up at the blurred image above him, confusion marking his features as his mind fought to make sense of the input it was receiving. A garbled moan escaped from his throat as he squirmed, unable to move his arms, yet not aware enough to comprehend why. His efforts served to rouse his mind however, which immediately recognized the bonds still containing him, as well as the moist gag that interfered with his attempts at words. 

A soft chuckle reminded him of what had awoken him, and with an indignant scowl he sought out the source of the offending noise. 

Grey eyes stared down at him; their corners pinched in amusement as they observed his stirring. "Good morning," he greeted with a small smirk, gently resting a hand on the youth's shoulder. 

"Mmmhhmnhen!" Sade exclaimed; both surprised to see the healer awake, and also irritated that the man appeared much less bound than himself. 

"Easy, my young friend," Tewarn warned kindly, pushing down slightly on the younger man's shoulder. His eyes still gleamed with amusement, yet a faint shadow of another emotion flickered in their depths, one the brunette could not quite identify. "Be at peace. I would like to remove your gag, as I'm sure you also would prefer, but you must be calm."

The younger man followed his mentor's gaze as it traveled to the nearest of the guards. A momentary flash of anger rushed through his veins as he laid eyes on one of the men who had participated in their abduction, and he was sure his eyes reflected it before he was able to quell the sudden impulse. Thankfully, however, the guard appeared not to have noticed, and instead continued to stare off at some point in the distance.

"I need you to promise that you won't attempt anything – that you'll cooperate with these men," the healer explained, his tone heavily laced with bitterness as he complied with his instructions.

Sade glanced at the guard a second time, inwardly berating the man for his treachery, before turning his attention back to his teacher. He could tell how much the older man loathed their situation, and could easily sense the immense restraint he was exercising to remain on good terms with their oppressors. He snickered around his gag, resisting the urge to wink at the healer. He could tell that something was brewing within the older man's mind, some clever scheme to free them and make the others pay for their diabolical actions. Unable to reply with words, he offered an assenting grunt and nodded his head, glancing over to see that his reaction was noted by the watchful sentry. 

The man grunted, offering him a tight-lipped nod. "Very well," he conceded, approaching the young man. "But watch yourself. You won't like what happens if we catch you disobeying us, or breaking your word." He sneered at the bound man for a few moments, bending over so that his face was directly over the other's. "Have I made myself clear, boy?" he breathed, glaring icily at the brunette. 

The brown head nodded a second time, fear causing his light brown eyes to widen as curly strands bounced in response to the motion. He unconsciously held his breath as the muscular figure continued to glower at him, his angry gaze letting the young man know the extent to which he was despised. After a small eternity, the guard finally removed the gag from his mouth, just as his chest began to convulse from the lack of oxygen. A gasping breath shuddered through his torso as his lungs frantically sought to drown themselves in that which they'd been deprived of. 

The sentry sneered wickedly at the young healer, pleased that he'd been able to intimidate him to such an extent that he'd ceased to breathe. Continuing to gaze at him menacingly, he removed a few of the bindings, enabling the young man to sit up. His shoulders quivering with his quiet laughter, he returned to his post in much better spirits than he'd been in all morning. 

Tewarn cast a reproachful glare at the guard before turning his attention back to his apprentice. "How do you fair?" he asked, watching as the flush slowly dissipated from the youth's complexion. "Are you hurt?"

The young man shook his head as he reflexively worked his jaw, which was somewhat stiff from the many hours of restraint. "Nay," he answered finally, a smile pulling at his lips as he delighted in being allowed to speak again. Glancing up, his grin faltered, as he suddenly remembered the state he'd last seen the healer in. "And you? Does your head pain you?"

The older man smiled wistfully, a ghostly sadness dulling his gaze. "Aye, it does some. But it is a small matter, and will pass."

Sade frowned at the response he was granted, eyes narrowing skeptically at his mentor. "What happened? How did you come to be injured?" he blurted, his curiosity finally getting the best of him.

"I was told you awoke some time ago," the healer informed him, watching the younger man for a sign of affirmation. 

Confusion settled on the brunette's features as he furrowed his brows at the odd reply. "Aye," he answered hesitantly, unsure of the direction of the conversation.

"Then you likely have overheard enough to form some idea of what occurred last night," the older man remarked knowingly, awarding him a firm gaze that declared his statement had not been a question. At the small confirmatory nod that followed, he continued, "Unlike everyone else, I did not drink from my glass, as I recognized it to be tainted with the sleeping drug. Instead, I feigned sleep, and when they made their intentions clear, I endeavored to fend them off. My attempt was foolish and destined for failure, as it proved. I only succeeded in creating a small delay before I was overcome."

Sade sighed as the tale was completed, patting the healer on the shoulder. "You acted in the only way you could. You were very brave," he consoled, smiling encouragingly at the man who had just become his hero.

Tewarn laughed as he read the awe in the younger man's eyes. "Thank you for your support, but I really do not deserve the praise you deem to give me."

"Yes you do," his apprentice insisted, his dark honey colored eyes sparkling with admiration. "You acted far more courageously than I could have."

Despite himself, the healer felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. "Perhaps," he mumbled, turning away from the younger man in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. 

The brunette beamed as he regarded his teacher, sniggering slightly at the discomfort the man displayed at being commended for his efforts. Silence pervaded the area, and after a time the younger man began to wonder what had captured the healer's attention so thoroughly, as he had yet to look back. Following the man's gaze, he groaned at his own ignorance. 

Just as he had been an innumerable number of time, the healer had been caught by the allure of the elf-child, and sat entranced, his eyes fixed on the sleeping elfling. 

"Why does he yet sleep?" he heard himself ask, unwittingly falling into the familiar trance created by the mesmerizing being. 

His words served to partially free Tewarn from his engrossed state, who frowned slightly as he visually examined the blonde, forcing himself to remain alert. Recalling the previous evening, he studied the child, searching for anything that appeared different about his appearance. His gaze narrowed on the boy's face, his eyes, which were now closed. "Sade, do you remember his eyes closing after we gave him the draught?" he asked, suspicion ringing in his tone as an idea formed in his mind. 

"Wh-I?" the young healer exclaimed, startled from his daze. "Oh, I... I don't..." he stammered once he registered the question that had been posed, his mind racing to remember the finer details of the previous evening. "Nay," he answered finally with a small shake of his head, a frown forming on his lips as he glanced up at the older man. "They were open," he confirmed decisively, shocked at the revelation. 

The auburn man let out a slow breath, his lips pursed together as he somberly regarded the small elf. "That's right. We also know that we were all, well, all save myself, were administered a dose of the tonic. That would not have been enough to keep us all asleep for such a long period as it apparently did. I believe it to be fairly reasonable, then, to assume that a second dosage was given while we slept. When I administered the brew to the elf, I gave him a much smaller amount than would be given an adult. I believe that whoever delivered the second dose did not adjust the quantity, and inadvertently gave the child an excessively high dosage." 

Sade looked down at the elf, his gaze fearful as he watched the steady rise and fall of the small chest. "Is that... Will he be okay?" he asked softly, dreading the answer as much as he anticipated it. 

"I cannot say for certain," the healer admitted grimly. "He does not appear to suffer harm, but until he awakens, we can not be sure." 


	8. Chapter 8

The hours wore on, the sun mounting higher in the sky as it approached its peak. Gradually the men began to rouse themselves, preparing for their departure. News of the elfling's accidental overdose filtered through the camp, concern rapidly mounting over the possible failure of their plot. Like moths to a forbidden flame, the men were uncontrollably drawn to the area designated for the captives, each attempting to appear nonchalant in their passing, yet hoping to steal a glimpse of the sleeping child.

Orders were given that the two healers maintain constant vigilance over the elf's condition. Periodically one of the two leaders would venture over to ask them for an update on the boy's status, inwardly willing the elfling to recover quickly. It was everyone's deepest fear that the excessive medicine would cause the boy to succumb to the sleeping death. With each hour that passed, it appeared such a prognosis was increasingly probable. 

Weary limbs lifted the seemingly weightless form onto the cart prepared for it as the group prepared to move on, the despondency of the situation deadening the hearts of the members as they moved mechanically about the vestiges of the site. The solemn entourage departed just as the sun crested, its radiant glory passing unnoticed by the morose company. 

Little was said the remainder of the day, as the disheartened men continued their travels, their hope diminishing with each successive step. Only the knowledge that they were not yet safe from their potential pursuers drove them to continue, for it appeared evident that their plot had failed. 

"We are making good time," Jarek observed, glancing around at their surroundings. 

Beside him, Prevos snorted contemptuously, casting the shorter man a sharp look that wordlessly rebuked him for interrupting his internal contemplations. "Better than anticipated," the scowling commander agreed, his mood sourly accentuated by his irritation at having been disturbed. "It has been a most _peaceful_ journey thus far," he added bitingly, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the other man. 

For hours the sloshing of feet through the river's shallow bed had provided a steady accompaniment to their marching, accented occasionally by a gust of wind in the treetops, or the call of a random bird. The overall effect was very soothing to the nerves and numbing to the mind, creating the perfect atmosphere for allowing one's focus to be redirected to internal matters. 

The stocky lieutenant ignored the surly tone of the reply, indifferently gazing up at the golden sphere that had gradually been descending the sky. "You still intend to continue through the night, as we discussed earlier?" he asked, more as a diversion from his growing boredom, than any true need for clarification. 

"That is what was decided ere we departed," the dark haired man hissed through gritted teeth. He turned an annoyed glower on his companion, violent images flashing through his mind as he momentarily entertained thoughts of forcefully silencing the pointless exchange. A brief smile flickered over his features before vanishing, replaced by the dangerous countenance of one who is at the end of their patience. "Have you reason to suggest we do otherwise?" he snapped. 

"Nay," Jarek responded mildly, unconcerned by the ire seeping out of his companion's every pore. "I simply thought you might have considered altering our earlier time schedule, given the circumstances and our current progress." 

The shorter man's unresponsiveness to his growing frustration caused Prevos' blood to steam. He let out an exasperated groan as he fought to contain his fury. "I have not seen a need for such action to be taken, therefore we shall continue on as planned," he answered in a harsh tone. He rigidly wiped at the beads of sweat that had accumulated in the hairs of his mustache. "Furthermore, I do not feel anything has changed regarding our _situation_. Unsettling as it may be, the healers have yet to decree that the elf-child will not awaken. Until they do, I see not reason to believe it shall be otherwise. None can say how long it may take for them to reach such a decision, and that is certainly not just reasoning for remaining idle in the meantime," he barked, nostrils flaring as he ranted, his volume steadily increasing as his tirade continued. By the time he finished, it had raised to such a level that the entire band was staring at him, eyes wide in surprise at the unexpected outburst, as well as the vehemence contained within the austere words. 

"Captain!" an urgent voice cried out from the rear of the caravan, interrupting the deadly silence that had fallen prior to the fiery declaration. 

All heads snapped in the direction of the call, a sudden surge of anxious anticipation descending upon the band. 

"Captain!" the voice cried again, slightly louder than the first time. 

"Go see what this is about," Prevos commanded in a low voice, grateful for the opportunity to be rid of the incessantly talkative man, if only for a short period of time. Loathe as he was to admit it, his outburst had unnerved even himself, and it also was a relief to have the attention of the group directed towards something else. 


	9. Chapter 9

Tewarn took a leisurely swallow from his water-skin, savoring the crisp coolness of the water as it splashed against his tongue. A fine spray of water struck the side of his face as he corked the flask, the shower kicked up by the many marching feet wading through the shallow river they were using as a path. With a short sigh he wiped the droplets from his brow, intercepting their descent as they trailed towards his eyes. 

His routine had varied little in the many hours they had been traveling, with he and Sade alternating watches over the comatose elfling. Presently it was his turn, which denoted that he would sit on the small cart with the boy, while the younger healer trudged alongside them. Recalling the blonde elf, he glanced down at the still form beside him, absently checking for any changes in his condition. The man grunted as he again noted no change, and allowed his gaze to drift away, momentarily focusing on the position of the sun. His grey eyes dully watched as the bottom of the radiant orb seemed to rest upon the tops of the trees before ever so slowly sinking beneath them. A conversation he'd overheard earlier swam through his mind – a discussion between Jarek and the head guard in charge of watching over the hostages. 

_"We depart upon the noon hour. Make certain you are prepared for a long day of travel, we will not be stopping till the sun rises anew," the short commander advised, glancing down at the bound captives. "See that one of the healers is at the elf's side at all times. Doubtlessly we will be afforded greater haste if the load on the wagon is lightest, therefore have the healers take turns watching over him. We have not time to waste on negotiations, therefore should they resist you in any way, you may deal with such behavior in any manner you choose to achieve the desired compliance." _

Tewarn grimaced as he recalled the look of delightful malice he'd seen reflected in the guards' eyes. His alarm had only been heightened by the malevolent stare and menacing sneer that Jarek had returned before turning away to retreat to the other side of the encampment. 

After a time the wagon's progress was paused, and he was gruffly ordered to trade places with his apprentice. It was not an easy task, removing himself from the small wooden platform, for his arms remained bound together, and his legs were tethered so to limit the length of his strides when he walked. His head still ached from the harsh impact it had received not that long before, and when he managed to get his legs beneath him on the land, the world swam around him rebelliously for a few moments. 

Hummeth roughly nudged him forward, showing no sympathy for the older man's less than steady disposition. Much more nimbly than his teacher, for he was not only younger, but considerably less bound, Sade climbed up to take the other's place on the wagon. His eyes followed Tewarn's progress, their widened depths radiating the concern he felt over witnessing the older man's temporary vertigo. 

With an air of defiant pride, Tewarn cast him an annoyed glower, knowing full well, even without looking, how the apprentice would react to his current condition. Inwardly, he was touched by the youth's concern, and his heart burned warmly for the compassion his pupil held for him. But he was a practical man, and one well seasoned in hardship. It would not due for the younger man to waste his concern on an old healer; such attention was a distraction from his duty to his patient. A second, more pointed glance at the young man seemed to successfully convey this reasoning, and with suddenly flushed cheeks, the young healer moved to check on the elf child. 

The creaking wheels of the cart marked their passage, as minutes dragged into indefinable hours. The young healer religiously checked the elf's vital signs, and as discretely as possible, kept an eye on his master's condition too. 

XXXXXXX 

Monotonous hours had passed, and Sade's eyes were now lazily following the activity of two small sparrows, caught up in something of an argument on one of the branches that hung over the river's edge. When the cart's slow progress at last moved them out of sight of the odd pair, his gaze shifted to scan the party he was an unwilling member of. At the front of the group were Jarek and Prevos. He scowled as his eyes followed the hulking leader of this murderous band. He'd never liked the man, and was disgusted to think that these other men, many of whom he'd trusted in the past, had willingly gone along with his plans of betrayal. From there, his gazed alighted over the other four members, all of whom stared determinedly forward, though looked significantly more worn than they had when they'd first departed. Finally, he looked over at Tewarn. The older man moved awkwardly in the knee-deep water, the tether between his legs impeding his progress. Less obvious were the wounds he still bore, for though he hid the pain they caused well, Sade could still detect signs of the discomfort they caused. 

His idle surveillance was interrupted by a soft rustle beside him, and with a start he turned to see the elf child, now fully awake, looking around in terror. The boy let out a soft cry as the brown haired man gently laid a hand on his shoulder, murmuring soft words of comfort. The words did not seem to register in the small elf's mind though, for his panic visibly grew. 

Tewarn's attention was immediately drawn by the sharp increase in activity on the cart. "The child awakens," he hastily informed the guards near him. "I must see to him." 

The two guards' eyes grew wide, and one of them rushed ahead to alert Estaf, who was walking at the front of the cart. As soon as the man heard the news, he ordered the wagon to pause. 

"Voern," Estaf said quickly, indicating the man at his side, "Go and tell Prevos the elf is awake. Hummeth, let the healers see to the boy." 

By this time, Sade was more actively restraining the elf, who had begun struggling to get away from the strange person that had first touched him, and was now pinning him in place. 

"I mean you know harm, but you must remain still. You are injured, you must not move," he told the frightened child, his own tone colored with alarm as he fought to keep the boy still, while also trying to avoid the numerous injured areas on his body. 

The young healer felt a rush of relief when he looked up to find his master scooting nearer the side of the elf. He'd never had to care for a patient by himself before, and he worried that he might have been more nervous about the situation than the terrified elf child. 

As if reading his thoughts, Tewarn sent his apprentice a warm smile and patted his shoulder. Then he moved beside him, his gentle but firm grip holding the still trembling form of the blonde child. It had taken a bit of negotation to get the guards to allow him use of his hands, but after fiercely pointing out his absolute need for his hands, with no small hint to the wrath the guards would face from Prevos if something happened to the elf, they had hurriedly acquiesced. 

"_Ada_," Legolas cried in a whisper-soft voice. His mind was still groggy, and the swimming sensation inside his head was making it hard for him to focus on his surroundings. Nothing about the scene around him was familiar. In searching for answers, the waves of fear pulsing through his veins increased dramatically as he found a terrifying abundance of gaping holes in his memory. Where was he? What had happened? 

Legolas had never had the misfortune of serious injury before, and certainly had no experience with the sluggish way his mind was working. He did not yet have sufficient control over himself to command such obedience from his mind or his body as to calm the frenzied beating of his heart, or end the sickening swells of dizzying motion that blurred his vision and churned his thoughts. His ability to recall anything, be it recent or something from his more distant past, was severely hampered, with large blanks filling in areas he would normally find vivid memories. With nothing to anchor himself to, he was scared; the faces peering down at him were foreign to him, their words incomprehensible, and his body ached with a throb that chased itself from one end to the other and back again, the limbs protesting the mere suggestion of movement. 

It was a small mercy, then, that the sleeping draught's effects were not wholly passed. In spite of himself, and even as he fought to clear his mind and rouse his senses, the edges of awareness slowly melted away, sending him back to the blissful abyss he had left only minutes before. 

Tewarn breathed a sigh of relief, and set about checking on the elfling's injuries once more. "This is a good sign," he commented to his apprentice. Beside him, Sade continued to sit frozen, his muscles clenched in worry. Tewarn also suspected the young man had yet to release the breath he'd been holding for some time now. "He has awoken once, it is only a matter of time before he does so again." 

At last Sade exhaled, nodding his head in relieved understanding. The small elf's eyes had closed again, but, if only in his own mind, Sade though he looked to be resting easier. 

"The elf?" a gruff voice barked. With a start both healers looked up, finding the stout form of Jarek beside the cart. He had rushed over as soon as the outcry had been heard, and there was a clear mix of anxiety and excitement etched in his features as he gazed past the healers at the child. 

"He awoke briefly. The draught yet runs through his veins, and he has fallen asleep once more. He shall awaken again in time, perhaps as early as the morrow," Tewarn informed him coolly. His face was unreadable, but his apprentice noted the scorn that tinted his words, masked by the detachment with which they were delivered. 

"He will be well, then?" Jarek wanted to be absolutely certain. It would be an utter shame if this mission failed due to their own folly, and so early on. Even more pressing than his impending wealth was the immediate need to ensure he would not bear the brunt of Prevos's anger, should he bear false witness and the elf's health fail. 

Tewarn gave a slight nod. "It appears so, his wounds are mending well." 

Jarek smiled, though there was no warmth in the expression. With a nod to the healers and surrounding guards he turned, hurrying back to report to Prevos. 

With the excitement faded, the men returned to their earlier positions and their progress continued. 


	10. Chapter 10

The exhausted band of travelers happily greeted the splinters of golden rays that shot through the pinkish sky, heralding the arrival of a new day. For them, the warm bursts of light meant a cessation in their endless travel. 

"We make camp in that grove ahead," Prevos announced, pointing at an outcropping of trees not far ahead. Murmurs of agreement filtered through the tired company, but no further words were spoken. By this time, the travelers were too weary to engage in idle chatter. 

As they drew up beside the grove of trees, the men carefully worked to guide the wagon onto the dry banks, the task requiring most of their combined strength as they battled the muddy slopes of the riverbed. A camp was hastily thrown together – a fire pit prepared, supplies removed from packs, bedrolls laid out. Spits were erected around the fire to roast the game they'd killed the previous evening, having taken the opportunity to fell a pair of rabbits near the water's edge. 

The last thing to be removed from the wagon was the slumbering form of the elf child, still deep in his drug-induced sleep. At the behest of the healers, he was placed near the fire's side. 

Tewarn ran a hand through his hair, brushing the tie that held the long reddish strands back from his eyes. He could scarcely remember being so tired, yet his job was not yet finished. Glancing sideways, he caught the gaze of his young apprentice. The young man looked just as worn as he felt, with dark circles shadowing the undersides of his dark eyes. 

"We will dress his wounds once more before we rest," he asserted, already pulling supplies out of one of their packs. 

The dark head of the young healer nodded, though he said nothing. For his part, he was impressed he was even still coherent. They had trudged through the river for an entire day and night, taking only the shortest of breaks. As a healer he had been afforded some reprieve, and was allowed to spend part of the trek on the wagon with the elf child. Yet the times he had been wading had taken their toll on him. His legs felt like lead from constantly pulling themselves through the tireless current, and the prolonged cold they had been subjected to while submerged had left them utterly numb to the touch. 

Forcing whatever mental capacity he had left to focus, Sade aided his teacher in removing the dressings from the elf's wounds. His surprise grew with each bandage they pulled off, for the young elf's wounds had healed an incredible amount. In all his life he had never heard of injuries repairing themselves so quickly: most of the smaller cuts and scrapes were now barely perceptible on the ivory skin, and the more severe ones looked as though they'd had a week to mend. 

"Elven healing truly is remarkable," Tewarn commented with a wry grin, answering the questions he knew to be circling his apprentice's mind. "I have never had the occasion to see it myself before, but I can now attest that the myths do not lie." 

Finishing the final dressing, the healer again broke the silence to address the young man, "We have done what we can for now, and you have done very well. Take some nourishment and retire while we may. Likely it will be another long journey later today," the old healer stated tiredly as he laid a gentle hand on the younger man's shoulder. 

They had finished inspecting the many injuries of their patient, and had redressed them all. Tewarn glanced around himself to see that the majority of the men were already sleeping, having quickly eaten as soon as the meat was at an edible temperature. On legs that threatened to give out, the two made their way to the remains of the meal, took their fill, and then passed out on their bedrolls, each on either side of the Elven boy. 

XXXXXXXXX 

The sun was well on its path of descent when most of the men roused again. All still worn from the incredible exertions they had been recently undertaking, it was a very quiet group that milled about the camp, with only a few grumbles and grunts to be heard. A few set out to obtain meat for a meal, while others saw that their supplies were stocked and packed, ready for the imminent departure. 

Of the two healers, Tewarn was the first to awaken. His joints ached in protest as he forced himself to a sitting position, the hardships of travel not agreeing with the onset of age. He ran a hand over his face, clearing the last remnants of sleep away. A wry smirk pulled at his lips as his fingers brushed the coarse stubble that now covered his face. He was unused to the feel of a beard, and he could not quite recall a time he had gone so long without shaving. Shrugging off such unimportant thoughts, he turned to check on his slumbering patient. 

With eyes still closed, the child appeared in no different state than that morning. A rudimentary inspection revealed that his breathing was normal and his heartbeat strong. Tewarn then turned to regard his companion, wondering if he should wake the young healer. He studied the young face, so serene in sleep… so innocent. Even in full wakefulness the man was hardly more than a boy. 

He did not have to consider long, however, for short moments later, a pair of dark eyes opened to blearily meet his gaze. Tewarn smiled at him, and the youth raised himself up beside his master. His eyes immediately fixed themselves on the blonde elfling, noting the gentle rise and fall of the small chest. 

"There has been no change," the older man assured him, patting him gently on the shoulder. 

Sade nodded, feeling somewhat sheepish that he had slept so soundly when he had a charge under his care. "Shall I fetch us something to eat?" he asked instead, feeling the emptiness churn inside his own stomach. 

At the other end of the camp, the men had returned with their catches, a few birds and some fish, and the smells of the roasting meat were wafting enticingly in the air. Tewarn nodded his consent, and Sade fairly bounced as he made his way over to the food. 

Soon after, the dark brown haired youth returned, beaming as he presented his mentor with a plate full of a variety of meats. They had scarcely begun enjoying the fair , however, when they were interrupted by a soft moan coming from the being beside them. 

Without a moment's hesitation, the healers dropped their plates and flew to the elf's sides. Seeing the sudden flurry of motion, the other members of the party froze, all eyes following the pair as they rushed to attend to the elf. 

Blue eyes slowly fluttered open, the dark pupils contracting as they were assaulted by the brilliant afternoon light. The young elf let out a low moan again as he turned on his side, hiding his face from the sudden attack of blinding sunlight. 

Allowing him time to accustom himself to the waking world, the healers patiently waited beside him, the younger of the two once again holding his breath, his patience more strained than his master's. Excitement coursed through his veins at seeing the fair being awaken, and though he knew not what he expected, it was a struggle to remain still and silent. 

Small fists rubbed at the blue orbs, rubbing out the initial shock of the burning light, before the youth attempted to fully take in his surroundings. His gaze clear at last, he opened his eyes, and rolled to his back. Sights, sounds, and smells assaulted his senses all at once, and for a moment he could do nothing but lay stricken, taking them all in. As his mind ordered the rush of sensory input, he found himself lying on some form of cloth or bedroll, which cushioned him from the hard earth below. There were trees around him: not many, a cluster perhaps. He smelled them, felt them first before he saw them, though his gaze eagerly sought their green plumage and soon identified the leafy canopy above him. 

His sharp ears registered the rush of water nearby, a small river he deduced, and at the same time the crackle of a fire that had been burning for some time. There were a few birds singing off in the distance, and a few other smaller creatures roaming about in a meadow somewhere off to the east of where he lay. For the young prince it was puzzling that none of the creatures were nearer, and in fact seemed to be purposefully avoiding the glade he now laid in. 

The smells of roasted meat incited his stomach to gurgle noisily, demanding his attention. His throat seemed to take that same opportunity to announce to him its parched state, and he at once wondered when he'd last he'd eaten or drank. 

No sooner had the thought risen to the fore of his mind, than scattered bits of memories began flooding his consciousness. An audible groan escaped his lips as he lay subjected to the deluge of images and thoughts. Emotions colored the flashing clips, with joy, fear, terror, and despair each taking their turn. He'd been running… there'd been Orcs… and the spiders… and then… 

His breath caught, and his widened, fearful gaze turned to at last take in the two forms beside him. 

And then Men. 


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **I've never been able to leave well enough alone, and that may be one reason it takes me so incredibly long to finish anything. For those of you who have read the earlier chapters before this chapter was published, a few very minor changes have been made. Most notably, the name of the healer's apprentice has been changed to Sade. I can't say there's any significant reasoning for this, I was just never happy with his name before. I also realize that the story is kind of at a lull, but bear with me, because it will pick up shortly. 

Much thanks to those of you who have reviewed, it's always wonderful to know that your efforts are well received!

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

In hindsight he wondered why the men, seated not inches from his sides, had not been the first thing to catch his notice. He reluctantly supposed it was because he'd become so accustomed to being alone, that it hadn't occurred to him that anyone else would be around. Regardless, the oversight sat heavily both in his thoughts and on his heart, for it was the sort of fatal error he was supposed to be proving he was beyond.

When his thoughts and senses finally did come together once again, he was staring in petrified terror at two very strange faces. Once again his attention was drawn to those features that clearly marked them as human: the bristly hair that sprung from their chins in an almost dwarven way, the rounded ears, and the curious folds that marred the older one's face. He couldn't help but conclude that humans were certainly not Arda's most beautiful creatures. Of its own volition, his nose scrunched up while he continued to behold them. Another difference between their races had begun to make itself unmistakably clear: their smell. Amidst the aromas of the cooked meal, the charred wood in the fire, and the natural odors of the wilds, there was an overwhelming stench that hung heavily about the camp; one the blonde elfling could only liken to the smells of an unkempt stable. 

Was it possible that a creature possessing any form of intelligence could allow itself to reek in such a way? Legolas thought he might be sick as he fought to block out the mingled scents of greasy skin, sweat, and other foul bodily odors. More than he had ever in his life, he yearned for a bath. 

Instinct took over after several moments of shock-induced paralysis had passed, and the young Wood Elf began to grow ever more aware that he was not within his own forest. The scattered images of his flight through the forest returned, along with brief flashes of his arrival in the human's camp. There had been a knife… and a fire. Jerking himself upright in what normally would have been an agile leap to his feet, he was at once reminded of the injuries he'd sustained during that horrific retreat. 

Hands immediately clasped his shoulders in gentle grips, drawing his mind back to the no longer passive onlookers. Panic rose in his chest as he fought to command his limbs, which only sluggishly responded through the throbs of pain. Anger mixing with the fear that had captured his mind, he forced away the protests of his body. They could not hold him here! He had to get away! 

"_Baw!_" (No!) he cried, though it was only a whisper, and lacked any commanding force. Weakly, he pushed at the two figures, surprising himself by how little strength he had. 

It was fascinating to observe the process by which the elf came to orient himself. At first tranquil, they could read the fear steadily mounting in the child, culminating at the point when he at last became aware of their presence. The healers reacted in unison to calm him as he shot bolt upright, his legs twitching somewhat but to no purpose they could deduce. 

"_Levio nin!_" (Release me!) the boy cried again, though his earlier fervor seemed to be fading, regardless of how poorly his body had conveyed it. His body was beginning to protest the upright position, and his vision began to swirl in a most unsettling way. 

"Ssh young one," Tewarn soothed, gently pushing against the small shoulder to guide him back down. "We are pleased to see you awake, but you must not exert yourself so."

The blonde prince struggled against the gentle, yet firm, grips that held his arms. He recognized what the older man wanted when he felt the force urging him back down onto the bedroll, but he wanted none of it. This was not his forest, and these were not his people. He needed to get away! 

He kicked out with his legs feebly; at once realizing that this was perhaps not the wisest of moves. He saw the world spin wildly, its course bringing with it an incessant throb of pain that radiated from his head, down over his entire body. His already precarious hold on his muscles teetered, and the healers witnessed his form noticeably sway.

Again Tewarn increased the pressure on the young being's arm, but this time the youth did not fight him, allowing the firm grips to ease him back down. The young elf had decided that perhaps the men around him were right in insisting he lay back down; his body was certainly not agreeing with his decision to force it in any other position at the moment. 

Legolas furrowed his brows together, his lips forming a thin line as he carefully regarded the two humans. To the humans, the expression was unusually contemplative for one of his apparent age, and they forced themselves not to show their amusement. Now prostrate once more, the young elf stared up at them, somewhat relieved to have the clarity of his vision restored. While he felt somewhat helpless lying there, at least his limbs pained him less, and he was able to concentrate more fully.

Other memories surfaced in his mind. The fire had been a mistake – he'd fallen right into it, and the knife as well, although he couldn't recall where exactly it had come from. And there'd been a spider… He felt a twinge on the top of his shoulder, as if to confirm the memory. Yes, the spider had bitten him. A man had tried to kill it before it did, he thought, but had been too late. 

He again studied the human faces above him. They had fallen still once more, though their hands continued to rest gently on his upper arms. Perhaps they were trying to help him? He vaguely remembered someone seeing to his wounds, which, he noted after a brief glance down at himself, were well bandaged still. He could not sense any innate ill intentions about the two, but he was not quite ready to relinquish his caution. It would be much easier if he could just speak with them, or anyone.

Frustrated now that he had come to the end of what he could piece together, the blonde head fell limply upon the cloth beneath him. A soft sigh left him, and he glanced upwards, his gaze instinctively seeking out the comforting boughs of the trees. His gaze turned quizzical as he studied them; they were not the sort of trees he was used to seeing. He could see little of the surrounding land from where he lay, but he knew without a doubt that he was no longer near the forests of his birth. If only he could touch the mighty trunks of these trees, then he might be able to find answers to his questions. Familiar or not, there was an implicit trust between the Wood Elves and all forms of nature unspoilt by darkness, and he knew that if only he could ask, the trees would help him in any way they could.

He was drawn from his internal ruminations by a change in the pressure on his arm. No longer merely present, the grip was now actively seeking his attention. The blue eyes fixed themselves on the older, greyish eyes of the healer, their depths holding the question that his words were unable to ask.

"Good, my young friend. Now I must bid of you to drink something. It is only water, but will do you well," he explained in calm, soothing voice that engendered trust by its very tone. He held the canteen up for the young elf to see, motioning with it that he intended for the elf to drink from it. As he expected, the young face pinched itself into a grimace, the limp arms at once coming back to life as they attempted to push away the proffered drink.

Tewarn and Sade easily held his arms down, so depleted was the boy's strength. Far from deterred, Tewarn simply smiled at the blonde child. "The water is pure, I assure you. No herbs of any kind." To demonstrate his point, he raised the jug to his own lips, and took a good-sized gulp. After wiping his lips, he again brought the opening nearer the boy's face.

The display had the intended effect, and Legolas at once understood what was being offered. His dry throat silently rejoiced as the canteen was brought to his lips. He felt extremely vulnerable and frail as the strong hands of the healer's student raised his upper body to a better position for drinking, but did not protest. Greedily he now accepted the liquid, and gulped down as much as they would allow him.

"I see you are quite thirsty, young one," the older of the two commented with a warm smile, pulling away the drinking jug, "but it is better to drink in moderation. Too much will upset your stomach."

The reddish head turned, taking with him the canteen. Legolas could not see what he was doing, rummaging about with his back to the elf, but he did not have to wait long. Shortly the older man turned back to him, and in his hand was a cup of something that, judging from the steam raising from its surface, was quite warm. 

"It may not be the best, but this will help to coat your stomach," he explained, ignoring the incomprehension that glittered in the gaze of the blue eyes. Pulling out a spoon from the nearby supplies, he repeated his earlier demonstration, first sampling the substance, which appeared to be some form of stew, then offering it to Legolas.

Again the woodland prince felt a flush of humiliation, but pushing aside his pride, he accepted the assistance in eating. The stew was not terrible, but nor was it very good. Consisting mostly of broth and a few chunks of meat, it was a meager fare. Still, it sat easily within the elf's empty stomach, and successfully assuaged his hunger for the time being.

Once he had finished the bowl, the healers cleaned away any remnants of the meal before carefully lowering him back to the ground.

"He seems to be doing very well," the younger man commented.

"Aye, the draught seems to have at last released its hold over him. He should regain his strength more quickly now."

Legolas's attention wandered as the two continued to talk. Unable to understand any of their words, the young elf saw no point in listening any further. His gaze wandered over what he could see of the campsite: bedrolls strewn haphazardly about, various packs and bundles piled in various places, a small wooden cart of some sort sitting off to one side. He counted 6 other men scattered throughout the encampment, not including the two at his side. In studying them, a small voice grew steadily more persistent within the recesses of his mind: these other men were not to be trusted. Whereas the two by his side at least seemed genuine, there was an unsettling air surrounding many of the others. One man in particular seemed to carry with him a great amount of darkness.

It was this man, with his cold, dark eyes, and greasy black hair, that approached the elf and his two human attendants.

"How does he fare?" he asked in a harsh, deep voice. There was a commanding air in his demeanor, and even his question seemed as much an order as an inquiry.

Scarcely glancing at the hulking figure that towered above them, Tewarn answered the brute with as much neutrality as he could muster, "He is weak. His injuries heal well, but he is in no condition to move on his own. Though the effects of the sleeping draught appear to have worn off, he must still rest to regain his strength."

Legolas noted the forced impassiveness the healer displayed as he addressed this foreboding man. His sensitive ears easily picked up the tones of distaste and resentment that laced his words, though he was certain the other man did not. 

Prevos grunted in response, his fingers rising to run through the straggly hairs of his greasy beard. "We break camp in one hour. Until he able to walk on his own, the elf shall be carried."

Many of the men had been straining to hear the conversations surrounding the healers and the elf, and at this news they began to whisper amongst themselves.

"We will not be taking the wagon?" one man asked incredulously, glancing at the wooden cart. 

"No," Prevos responded, the word coming out more of a bark than anything else. "We will travel much faster without it. I want to put more ground behind us before we take rest again. The elf child weighs little, shifts will be taken in carrying him as we march." He paused a moment, allowing his words to sink in. Pointedly, he sought out each man's gaze in turn, wordlessly intimidating them into submission. Satisfied that his words would go uncontested, he nodded, if only for his own benefit. "We leave in one hour!" he repeated the command, more loudly this time so that it was unquestionably heard by all members of the group.

"You two," he said, addressing the two healers in a quieter tone. "Find some way to allow him to be carried, and I will hear no arguments. A cloth or harness. He must not be able to struggle." He did not wait for them to respond, but simply turned and walked to the other end of the camp, seemingly content that his orders would be carried out. 

Legolas had apprehensively watched the scene unfold. He could tell that he was the subject of their conversation, though he could not tell what had been discussed. Whatever had occurred, the larger man, apparently the leader of this group, had enough sway that his orders would be carried out. From the resulting expressions on the faces of the two healers, the young prince knew he was about to be subjected to a fate he would not enjoy.


	12. Chapter 12

The party of men trudged through the knee-deep waters of the small river; each at turn glancing at the sun's progress, marking its decent through the sky. Despite being in contact with the water, it seemed that few, if any, had bathed in several days. Dirt caked onto clothes and skin, in places so thick that the garments were rigidly stiff, only cracking to allow movements. Though they traveled at an acceptable pace, each man was laden with a large pack, with the hilts of a variety of daggers, knives and swords peaking out from belts or under folds of cloth.

In the center of the group, a particularly stocky man carried on his back not the typical traveling pack, but the still form of a young elf. Allowed some view of the party's progress, the Elven prince allowed his gaze to lazily wander the edges of the surrounding forest. At times the steady progress would lull him to sleep, though he found the heavy gate of the man to be far from smooth. Still, there was little he could do in this position apart from watch.

He was attached to the man by a large cloth that had been molded into a harness of sorts. His body had been snuggly wrapped in a similar sheet, securing his limbs to his sides should he decide to lash out, and from there he had been encased in the larger cloth that supported him.

Shortly after their departure, Legolas had been able to discern that they were heading in a southerly direction. Confounded by his inability to understand his captors or reach out to the surrounding trees, he was unable to discover anything else about his present situation, or what the men intended. For the moment, they appeared to be content to follow the river's course. It seemed a very unusual decision to the young elf, but as he factored this in with other observations, such as the very secure bindings on his limbs, doubts and fears began to creep ever more pressingly into the fore of his mind. With nothing to do but sit and watch as he drew further and further from his home, he found his thoughts to be poor company.

The sky was now a brilliant orange, with yellow and pink at its far edges surrounding the golden orb that now kissed the far horizon. The young face frowned as he beheld the magnificent sight. In his mind he could picture sunsets similar to this one, viewed from within the comforting boughs of his favorite trees. Unbidden, the memories enveloped him, assaulting his senses in blissful reverie: the heavy pine scent of his forest, the familiar chatter of creatures in neighboring trees, the companionable presence of the tree that held him. Slow tears began leaking down his cheeks as he returned to his present situation. What would become of him now? Would he ever see his home again?

Beside the elf, the young healer tiredly marched through the stream, his focus never far from the young woodland being. His gaze caught the wet glint that appeared on the young cheek, and his stomach sank. He clenched his fists to avoid reaching out to the sorrowful youth. Likely as not, the boy would flinch away in fear if he attempted to console him, and truthfully, what form of comfort could he offer? Sade was, after all, one of the boy's captors, even if it was not willingly.

It was not long before the group again made their camp. Moving towards a more normal travel schedule, they were allowed to rest for the night. Although the men were still tired, the mood had substantially improved, and this evening there was considerably more conversation. Dried meat was passed around, and soon flasks of ale and other spirits were being lifted around the warm light of the fire.

In their usual position off to the side of the commotion, Sade and Tewarn kept up their typical routine of monitoring the elf. To Legolas' relief, both had decided to bathe that evening, a trend he hoped the rest of the men intended to follow. Now that they were no longer moving, the constricting cloth had been removed, allowing him some movement in his limbs. He could tell himself that his wounds were healing, but his injuries still hurt enough for him to not be tempted to wander away. His attention moved from the two humans at his side, to the rest of the group, and back again. He wasn't certain how true these humans were to the rest of their race, but for the most part he found himself rather appalled. The two he had deduced to be healers were not so disagreeable, but the rest of this group were crude and slovenly. In a small corner of his mind, he decided that it was no wonder his father seldom welcomed their kind into the palace.

After the two humans at his side had spoken to each other for a short time, the younger of the two left, returning soon after with several slabs of a strange dark matter.

"Is it alright for him to eat this now?" Sade asked, motioning towards the elf with the chunk of preserved meat in his hand.

"Aye," the other nodded, glancing down at their blonde charge with a warm smile. After his examination of the boy when they had made camp, Tewarn was confident in his continued recovery. "Though he may not like it, it would do him well to have something heartier in his belly."

Legolas' ears pricked, drawing his attention more fully to the two men. Somehow, he knew they were talking about him. The younger of the two came to kneel at his side, still holding the strange dark slab.

As had become their custom, the brown haired youth took a small bite of the meat, and then offered it to the elf. "It is dried, but will fill you up," he explained, knowing the elf could not understand him, but feeling the need to say something.

Legolas curiously regarded the proffered substance. He easily gathered that this was a form of food, but it certainly did not look very appetizing. Glancing up at the expectant faces before him, he let out a soft sight before reaching up his good arm to accept the strange fare.

The two men watched as the blonde elfling hesitantly accepted the meat. His small fingers ran over the rough surface tentatively, before bringing it up to his nose. They both smiled as the boy wrinkled his nose at the scent, but it seemed the smell was not overly offensive, for he next took an experimental bite.

Though dried and preserved in a manner he was unfamiliar with, Legolas recognized the substance to be meat. The taste, though, was far from anything he had ever tried, and he grimaced as he forced himself to swallow the dry flesh. For a moment he turned the piece over in his hand, sniffing it again to see if he could tell what had been used. The meat had been heavily salted, but whatever else had been added had given it an undesirable acrid flavor.

A chuckle that had not been successfully suppressed drew his attention upwards, and he frowned upon discovering the two humans' amusement at his displeasure. The stern glare he fixed them with only served to further incite them, however, for they were soon laughing in earnest.

The small blonde head shook in annoyance, and he turned his gaze away from the men, forcing himself to eat more of the strange meal.

"The two of you are having quite the time over here," a voice interrupted. The heads of all three whirled to face the newcomer, who had come to stand only a few feet away.

"It appears the rest of you are having your own merriment this night," Tewarn remarked with a nod in the direction of the drunken mass at the other end of the camp. His tone was kept purposefully neutral, masking the annoyance and contempt that colored his thoughts. "Is there something you require, Jarek?"

Jarek smiled in amusement at the older man. "I've only come to inquire about the health of our young friend here." His green eyes settled on the young elf, and he paused for a moment, gazing into the blue eyes that were flickering in the light of the fire.

"His injuries are healing well, as I have reported," Tewarn replied somewhat coolly.

"Will he be able to travel on his own tomorrow?" the short man asked, finally tearing his gaze away from the elfling.

Comprehension dawned on the older healer as the true nature of Jarek's visit was revealed. "Nay," he said, shaking his head. "It is too soon. He will not last half the day if he is expected to walk."

"Very well," Jarek nodded. He was quiet for a few moments, staring at nothing in particular as he seemed to come to some internal decision. "He shall be carried again tomorrow. After that, though, I fear Prevos will not coddle him any longer. Be prepared to leave at sun up," he informed them. Contrary to his words, there was no emotion in his tone, and though Tewarn worried for the elf should he be forced to march for an entire day, he sincerely doubted Jarek shared any such concerns. After glancing once more at the elf, Jarek nodded at the healers and returned to the other side of the camp, already drinking greedily from the flask at his side.

"They expect him to keep pace on his own so soon?" Sade exclaimed, his irritation apparent. "And through the water?"

Tewarn laid a calming hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "They care not for his well-being, my friend. They see only the wealth they will soon have." Inwardly, he was surprised by their shortsightedness. Even knowing what they intended to do with the elf, it was foolish not to take care of him in the meantime. If they pushed him to exhaust himself, he would most assuredly be in poorer condition when they finally reached the markets to the south. A weak or sickly captive would certainly fetch a lower price than if he was healthy and well cared for.

"We should retire," he said with a sigh. "It will be another hard march tomorrow."

The younger healer wordlessly nodded his agreement, and went to his own bedroll. His mind was racing with a jumble of emotions and wild ideas. He hated Prevos, and everyone who had aligned themselves with him. He hated what they had in mind for the elf, and that his tutor, the man he most respected, did not really oppose the idea. He also hated himself, because he was not doing anything about it. Part of him wanted to try something, anything. Release the elf; take him and run as fast and far as he could. But he knew that it was no use; he would only be caught, and he had no doubt that Prevos would not have any qualms about killing him.

Feeling frustrated and useless, he stared up at the night sky, drawing some small comfort from the twinkling lights decorating the endless blanket of darkness. Not far away, two sets of eyes gazed up just as he did; one brilliantly blue, the other a misty grey, and each as equally conflicted this night, if for different reasons.


	13. Chapter 13

A day had passed; one the young prince remembered as an endless scan of unfamiliar, yet unmemorable, landscape

A day had passed; one the young prince remembered as an endless scan of unfamiliar, yet unmemorable, landscape. There had been trees and plains, but always the persistent flow of the stream, the rhythmic slosh of water, and the ceaseless journey south.

His small limbs had been restrained within the secure bindings of his harness, causing the joints to grow cramped, stiff, and soon after, laced with a dull numbness. One unpleasantly fragrant back had been traded for another throughout their progress as the men took shifts carrying the elf child.

As the sun bid its final farewell, relinquishing the sky to the more elusive light of the moon, the men prepared their camp for the night. For Legolas, this provided some relief; both in the forms of freedom of movement, as well as reprieve from the odorous proximity he had been forced to endure. Though no longer bound as an infant, he was still not allowed to roam as he would like. His hands were kept tied unless he was eating, and it was, in fact, a surprising treat to be allowed to stand on his own. To his continued displeasure, he was painfully aware of how every move he made was kept under the careful scrutiny of nearly every man in the assorted party. Within the precarious situation he found himself in, he felt stifled; and as time wore on, his restlessness was only magnified by the persistent dread that worked its way through his system.

XXXXXXXXXXX

The blonde elfling returned from the land of reverie just as the first colors of dawn were beginning to enter the sky. He lay still, staring up at the fading stars and listening to the sounds of men just beginning to stir. He had learned the pattern of these men well enough; soon the fire would be rekindled, and then a broth-like soup would be distributed Not long afterwards, the camp would be packed, and the march would continue.

He stretched his limbs in an unconscious protest to the snug bindings he knew would soon engulf him. How many more days of travel would he be forced to endure? A scowl pulled at the corners of his lips at the thought of countless days to come bound in a cocoon of sorts, tied to the backs of the sweaty men he traveled with. Not for the first time he contemplated their destination – if they did not abandon the stream that had been their companion thus far, he wondered if they would soon end up in the great Anduin, headed for the Great Sea. In his young life he had learned only some of the geography of Middle Earth, and while he knew the Great Sea lay somewhere to the south, he could not even begin to guess as to how far away it was.

While the idea of the Great Sea and the mysteries of far off lands were intriguing to all elflings, in his current situation his heart was filled with the sole longing for the cool forests of his home. He could not say if he was ever destined for great adventures abroad, but every fiber of his being told him that now was not such a time. At the present time he had a duty to his people and to his father, and more immediately, he had a task he had to complete.

Legolas' eyes grew wide as he remembered the Rite, and immediately a wave of guilt crashed over him, carrying in its wake an intense horror that stole his breath away. How had he forgotten so easily? The young blonde bit his lip against the rising tide of anxiety now creeping over him. The Rite was to last 21 days. At the start, such a span of days had seemed incredibly long; now, however, it seemed painfully short. How much time now remained? How long had he been with the humans? It was strange how all thoughts of the test, supposedly one of the most momentous events of his life to date, had slipped away so quickly. He reasoned that being injured, drugged, and kidnapped did influence one's priorities, but the need to rely on excuses of any kind did not sit easily with him.

Taking a deep breath to calm his now frantically beating heart, he attempted to calculate how much time remained of the Trial. He leafed through what hazy memories he could grab on to, but was at last unable to find a satisfactory answer. He could not say how long he had traveled, for the fog of his mind had rendered his memories unreliable at best.

The blonde prince let out a soft sigh, resisting the urge to feel defeated. Although there was much about his predicament that had been beyond his control, he could not accept failure. He glanced around him bitterly, noting absently that the men had indeed begun making their morning meal and packing their belongings. There was only one option, he concluded. He had to escape.

Cautiously he rotated his right shoulder, flexing his arm as he did so. Whereas white-hot pain had rebelliously seared his veins as recently as the day before last, now only a small twinge of pain protested the movement. A small smile lit his fair features, the first in several days. While most things about his situation seemed unbearably dire, here at last one was one positive.

A strange feeling washed over the blonde elfling, and with a different sort of awareness he glanced around. Not too far away, the older of the healers was watching him, a soft smile appearing amidst the dark stubble of his chin and cheeks. Obviously, he had witnessed the prince's tentative movements, and correctly interpreted his reactions as indications the wound was healing well.

The elf froze for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He was saved from the awkward situation, however, when the man's smile broadened, and he called something over his shoulder. Moments later, the younger man with curly brown hair walked over from the opposite side of the camp and knelt beside him. Apparently uncaring that the young elf was studying their movements with a critical curiosity, they engaged in a short discussion, each in turn gesturing at the elf and smiling.

At times Legolas did not care that he could not understand these peculiar creatures; other times, like the one he found himself in presently, it very much annoyed him. Scowling in a rather petulant manner that did not entirely befit one of his noble upbringing, he watched the two continue their conversation. After a few minutes the younger man left again, reappearing shortly thereafter with arms laden with bowls of soup.

Dutifully, the blonde accepted the bowl that was offered him, and with a moderate effort, ingested its contents. It was not horrible, but he found it to be very bland and disappointingly unchanging from one day to the next.

The approach of footsteps drew his attention away from the meager fare, and in raising his blue eyes upwards, the source of the disturbance revealed itself to be the leader of the group. Legolas unconsciously cringed; he had very unsettling feelings about this particular man. To his growing displeasure, the imposing figure stared directly at him, mirthless green eyes looking him over before at last turning their attention on the elder healer.

"I trust his condition has not deteriorated through the night?" he asked in a bitter voice, dripping with sarcasm. The arrogant smirk he fixed Tewarn with assured the healer he was aware of the elder's disdain, both for himself and his decision, but he was allowing no room for argument. Without further pause, he continued, "Good, then I shall expect his arms to be bound and him to be delivered to me shortly."

He tossed something to the seasoned healer, the movement causing the rush of air to catch its edge, revealing it to be some form of dark fabric. "See that he is wearing this, we want to avoid any unnecessary attention."

For a moment grey eyes met green, and the waves of mutual dislike that coursed through the surrounding air made the young prince hold his breath. Both he and the apprentice sat nervously, looking from one foreboding figure to the next, not daring to make even the slightest of sounds. It was a testament to the true tenacity of the healer that he could pose himself as such a tangible match to the larger man, his own height bringing him only up to the other's chin, and his lean frame a stark contrast to the burly muscles that rippled with each movement the other made. At last the dark haired man smirked, letting out a chuckle that was at the same time a snort of distaste, before turning on his heel and leaving the small group.

Several minutes of silence followed, the younger two scarcely breathing as they waited for the elder's reaction. Oblivious to their uneasiness, Tewarn stared furiously at the retreating back of his adversary, wishing he had the liberty to forcefully remove the smug sneer from the other's face. He knew too well, though, that such action would only be futile, and likely as not, his pupil and the young elf would pay the heaviest price.

When he was certain he had regained his senses well enough, he turned to meet the double gazes. "Sade, pack our things, we leave ere the hour ends."

He was immediately granted a fervent nod, and the younger man was instantaneously busying himself with their preparations. With a deep breath that left his body as a sigh, Tewarn moved to stand before the small blonde. "I fear today will not be easy for you, young one, and I have only my pity to offer." He knew his words would not be understood by the young being, but he hoped the elf might comprehend something from his tone. Indeed, as he laid a consoling hand on the small shoulders, he felt them sag.

He frowned at the elf sadly before shaking out the ball of cloth, revealing a dark shroud that was nearly the same size as the boy. The child instinctively understood what was expected, and did not resist as the cloak was draped over him, adjusted in such a way that it hid his face completely. Using a few of his own supplies, Tewarn hastily hemmed the edges of the cloak so it fell just below the youth's hip. He knew that if the fabric became wet it would get very heavy, and he did not want it impeding the boy's progress if it could be helped.

The older man paused once he had finished, looking over his work. All features were indiscernible beneath the shadow the cloak's hood cast over the youth's face. While bundled up as a parcel and carried, there had been little risk of any potential passersby noticing the elven features, but now that he was to be moving on his own, they could not risk his exposure. A company of men traveling with a young elf would raise far too many questions; better to conceal anything that might give him away.

From an assorted pile beside them, Tewarn selected a long strip of fabric. He bowed his head slightly as he approached the young form, his reddish hair hanging limply in front of his face, but he received no resistance as he took one and then the other of the boy's arms. Compliantly, the young elf allowed his arms to be bound together before him, much to the amazement of the healer. When he had finished, the man at last met the boy's gaze, the blue orbs shining with a strange detached awareness.

The healer frowned as he regarded the boy, sensing for the first time some unknown wisdom within the fair being. He certainly was not behaving in any way that would have been expected of a human child, but ironically he found the calm acceptance the youth responded with more unsettling than the tearful pleading he had anticipated.

Shaking his head against the unwanted feelings that had begun to rise up, the older man turned his attention to his pupil's progress. A few paces away, the young man was just finishing packing the last of their things.

As the grey eyes settled upon his form, Sade paused in his task, somehow sensing the attention that had just been placed on his actions. He said nothing as he turned, taking in the somber face of his mentor, and the eerily composed elf child. With deliberate motions he put the last few items in the pack and sealed it. Saying nothing, he rose to his feet and faced his teacher, hefting the packs onto his back.

Tewarn nodded briefly at his student, his gaze brushing over the young face that struggled against the conflicting emotions that churned just beneath the surface. Sade was young, and though this was a difficult situation, the youth's pure heart was more heavily burdened than most. The older man gently nudged the shoulder of the young elf, and the boy quietly accepted the lead.

Neither man said anything as they led the elf child to the opposite end of the camp, though beneath his loose grip, Tewarn could feel the prince's muscles tighten with each step they took. A glance down confirmed his suspicions; the boy was staring intently at the back of Prevos, his steps dragging as he was brought nearer the loathsome man.

Masking any emotions he might have felt, the healer forced his face to an impassive front, and only eased up on the boy's shoulder once they stood immediately behind the solidly built leader. He cast a glance to his side, noting the myriad of dark emotions that clouded his young companion's normally jovial expression, and gave him a quick nudge with his boot. He responded to the quizzical look he was granted with a stern shake of his head, hoping his apprentice would catch on. To his credit, Sade seemed to understand, and in spite of the tremendous effort it took, managed to school his own features just before the hulking figure they both despised turned around.

"Ah, we are ready then," Prevos exclaimed, looking down at the golden haired elf with a possessive leer. His lips curled into a menacing smile that nearly made even the old healer shudder with revulsion. After studying the elf's cloak for a few moments, taking in the elf's profile from several angles, he turned to mutter a few last instructions to the two men beside him. A few words were exchanged amongst the three, before the other two, Estaf and Voern, picked up the few packs on the ground and moved out of sight.

Turning back to the elf and his escort, Prevos carefully regarded each of the healers in turn. He nearly smiled in spite of himself as he noted the weak veil of control the younger had attempted to use to hide his true feelings. The boy had a lot of spirit, but was young, foolish, and above all, naive. Though easy enough to maneuver into cooperation the majority of the time, Prevos saw that the heightened level of agitation the youth was struggling with currently was severely taxing his self-restraint. It was no matter to him, however. He almost hoped the young man did step out of line; he would relish the opportunity to teach him a life lesson he was not soon to forget.

The older healer presented the more difficult challenge. Though he was cooperating in body, the contempt he kept carefully in check was ever present in his steely gaze. Unlike his young companion, Tewarn had traveled Middle Earth every bit as thoroughly as Prevos had, and possessed skills in the sword that rivaled his gifts with healing. Tewarn was also generally well-liked, and that combined with his value to the group as healer and his own cleverness made him a much more dangerous liability. Tewarn was not easily manipulated, yet his cooperation at this stage was indispensable. It would not sit well with the men to lose his expertise as they entered more treacherous regions, even with the younger healer as a backup, and any physical dispute would likely result in as much damage to his men as the healer. It was a dilemma he'd been contemplating since he had first formed the plan to take the elf child. For now it seemed the healer would not cause any problems, but he well knew that that might change. Unfortunately, after days and days of thinking on how best to deal with the situation should something need to be done, he was no closer to a solution.

At last Prevos turned his attention back to the hooded figure of the elf. He knelt down so his eyes were even with those of the child's, hidden though they were beneath the ample cloak. "From this day onward, you will be traveling with me. Your kind is hearty and fleet of foot I am told, so I shall expect you to keep pace. I have no pity for you, and no mercy will be afforded you should you falter."

The boy met his gaze evenly, not flinching from the sheer malice that was channeled through their visual link, nor offering any other reaction at all. Of course he understood nothing of what had been said, but he gathered enough to know that he was being threatened with consequences he did not wish to explore.

A rope seemed to suddenly appear in the hands of the large man, and he securely tied one end around the already bound hands of the elf, looping it several times and attaching it to his belt. Once he had finished, 4 feet of rope, reinforced several times, connected the elf to the man's belt.

Standing up, Prevos raised a hand to silence the young healer, whose lips were pursed with words he was about to voice. He was certain the youth was preparing to annoyingly remind him that the elf could not understand his speech, and he was in no mood to hear it. Ignoring him, Prevos directed his attention to the older of the two.

"He will carry his own weight. The life that awaits him will not be easy, and it is better he begins to learn that now. I will also not have him burdening any of my men; they have loads enough to deal with. But do not think I do not appreciate the value of his well-being. Since you sympathize so much with him, Tewarn, you alone will bear him should it be in his _best interests_." His final words ended in a sneer, the derision with which they were delivered a palpable barb. He knew the healer would hold his composure against his scarcely hidden taunt, but with the entire party now raptly focused on them, he also knew that should the time come, the older man would be honor-bound to comply.

He allowed the silence to ring through the air for a few minutes longer, before giving the elf's ropes a solid tug and heading towards the awaiting stream. The men needed no further instruction, and quickly fell into step.

At the back of the group, Sade followed numbly, shocked and simultaneously overwhelmed by the forces of rage and powerlessness he felt.

Beside him, his mentor remained rigidly unexpressive. Beneath the carefully constructed exterior, however, his blood boiled with outrage at his treatment. His grey eyes bored holes in the back of Prevos' head, and his fingers twitched as they danced only a hair's breadth from his empty sheath. At the moment there was little he could do aside from follow, but instinct told him that in the not-so-distant future there would be time enough to deal with the man who so thoroughly irked him.


End file.
